


Spilling His Guts

by Izzyfandoms, MagicQuill42



Series: Blood Guts and Gore [4]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Deceit Sanders Has a Different Name, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Serial Killers, Violence, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-09-30 15:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 45,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20449523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzyfandoms/pseuds/Izzyfandoms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicQuill42/pseuds/MagicQuill42
Summary: (MAIN STORY 2 OF THE BLOOD GUTS AND GORE SERIES)The Sanders family was in no way average. From the four fathers to the four kids, each one of them was absolutely exceptional. That didn't make navigating life any easier, but they were there for each other.The family hobby of being serial killers was more of a fringe benefit than anything else.But nothing lasts forever, and soon they'd be part of something that turned their happy, murderous life on its head.(The name Dorian is used for Deceit)





	1. Prologue

**TWO YEARS LATER**

A thirteen-year-old boy sat in the centre of the living room carpet, humming quietly to himself as he polished one of his favourite daggers. He paused for a moment to admire his reflection in the shining blade, brow creasing when he spotted another dry blood stain on the handle. The light was off, but the TV was on, so he could still see well enough.

_“There was another Royal Court attack last night.” _

He glanced up at the screen, watching as an image of a crown with eight multicoloured gems appeared beside one of the news reporters. They’d spray-painted that image above a corpse about a year ago, having decided that one symbol for the whole family was better than eight little ones. Nowadays, they just doodled a tiny crown in blood beside the victims they wanted to take credit for, along with the aliases of the killers, but the spray-painting stunt had been fun.

_“The victim was a Mr Calvin Roberts, the rich and well-beloved owner of Roberts Candy.” _

Dorian snorted as he went back to carefully polishing his knife. Well-beloved? Yeah, right. Tell that to his wife – she had paid them (through Hart and Brian) to get the job done – and to the dozens of secretaries he’d had throughout the years.

_“This particular murder was signed with the names Knight, Earl, and Viscount, a combination we haven’t seen in a while.” _

That was Remy, Thomas and Emile, respectively.

_“These serial killers tend to work in pairs.” The other news reporter added. “The Prince and the Knight are the most common, and they’re the ones who’ve been around the longest. The King and the Viscount also work together a lot, as do the Baron and the Earl, and the Duke and the Overlord.” _

Roman and Remy, Patton and Emile, Dorian and Thomas, Logan and Virgil.

_“The exact number of kills these monsters have executed is unknown, it’s common knowledge that they don’t take credit for all of the atrocities they commit, but it’s theorised that the number’s in the hundreds, maybe even thousands!” _

Dorian snorted again. Thousands was a bit much, there were only eight of them, after all, and half of them had school, but hundreds was accurate enough.

_“Some people like to call the Royal Court vigilantes, fascinated by their aliases, costumes, and various other theatrics, but the truth is that most of the victims were innocent.” _

A lie.

_“The police are doing everything they can to catch these killers, but none were willing to make a statement to us when we requested-” _

The TV suddenly turned off, and the living room light turned on. Remy stepped inside.

“Bro, what are you doing?” He asked, hands on hips. “Get up, get ready, you and Thomas have a job.”

Dorian sighed, gathering his things and standing up. There was little relaxation in the life of a thirteen-year-old serial killer.


	2. Chapter One

It was a full moon, and the dark night twinkled with the light of a thousand stars. There were barely any streetlamps in this area, so the moon and stars were all that illuminated the dark alleyway, enveloping the two teenagers in the shadows, hiding them from any possible passersby – not that there had been any so far, this particular town was very sparsely populated.

“You can’t do it that way.” The older of the two scolded, breaking the silence.

Dorian stuck his tongue out at Thomas. “Can so.”

“No, you can’t, the poison will drip all over and get us caught,” Thomas snatched the knife from Dorian’s hands, nose wrinkling at the goopy green poison that trickled dripped down the sides. “Father taught you this a million times, you can’t just put poison on a knife and expect it to work.” He pulled a handful of wet wipes from his pocket – they were useful for cleaning up and evidence – and wiped away the poison, thankful that the full-body suit and gloves kept it from getting on him.

Dorian groaned, fiddling with his mask. “But it’s cool!” He’d recently upgraded to a yellow, black and silver suit instead of the green one he’d received two years prior.

“Then we’ll talk to Uncle Heart and get you something special,” Thomas said, handing him back the knife and stuffing the wet wipes into a plastic bag in a different pocket of the suit. “But leave this poor blade alone.”

“You’re no fun,” Dorian grumbled, pouting slightly as he poked at the serrated edge (the gloves were thick enough not to be so easily cut through). He’d wasted a lot of poison on that.

Thomas rolled his eyes, lightly elbowing his younger brother in the ribs. That started a small shoving match between the brothers (though not hard enough for either of them to fall from the wall they were perched on).

All of a sudden, they paused in unison, eyes catching on movement below. 

“She’s here.” 

Dorian felt his demeanor change. He straightened his back, sharpening and tensing, looking for all the world like a snake coiled to strike. A smirk slowly crawled onto his face. 

Their latest victim walked down the alley, completely oblivious to her predators above. Brian had been messaging her from an untraceable computer for the past week or so, pretending to be a young teenage boy – someone she would have been interested in – and they’d organized to meet up here, somewhere no one would find them.

Thomas and Dorian – now the Earl and the Baron – dropped from their hiding spot, boots hitting the ground with a loud thump. Dorian took a special delight in how the lady whirled around, eyes widening as his narrowed. 

“Missus Patricia Harwhile,” Thomas said coldly. “You’ve been very awful indeed.”

“Messing around with young men, _much_ younger men,” Dorian mused, fiddling with his unfortunately unpoisoned knife. “Didn’t someone tell you that we don’t like that sort of thing?”

The woman swallowed, taking a step back. “I- um.”

“Save it.” 

Dorian stretched, his movements casual, ignoring her for the moment. “So! Earl-y Bird, what are you feeling tonight?”

Thomas hummed, taking his pistol from its holster and looking it over. “I’m thinking we just get this over with and shoot her.”

“Aw what?” Dorian exclaimed in a whine. “But I-”

He interrupted himself mid-sentence, catching sight of their victim trying to make a break for it. He threw two daggers. They landed in her legs, pinning her to the ground, and he turned back to Thomas, ignoring her desperate screams. 

“But I wanted to experiment tonight!” He continued, strolling over to the woman and pulling out one of the blades, looking it over. “You know, get a little crazy? Okay, well, maybe not _crazy_ but just something else. Guns are so _boring!”_

“They’re also faster,” Thomas huffed, crossing his arms. “Dad’s making dumplings tonight and I don’t want my portion to get cold just cause you wanted to get nuts.”

“But EAAAAARRLLL!”

“No buts! Now do you wanna do the job or the rest of the preamble?”

Dorian huffed. “I’m quoting Arrow, though.”

Thomas shrugged, uncrossing his arms and aiming the gun at her forehead. “Whatever you like.”

Dorian beamed and turned back to Patricia. 

“Ms. Harwhile. You have failed this city.”

***

It took them about an hour to get home. Thomas had recently gotten his driver’s license, being 18 years old, and had driven the duo there and back – they’d switched out the license plates three times over the course of the journey, just in case (the family had stolen dozens of spares).

They arrived through the back door, wearing black hoodies over their suits and their masks stuffed into their pockets.

“Ah, good, you’re just in time.” Logan greeted, looking them over approvingly. “I trust you got the job done without any witnesses or evidence.”

“’Course we did.” Dorian smirked. “It was easy.”

Logan half-smiled, adjusting his glasses. “I taught you well.”

“Uh, actually, I think you’ll find that _I _taught them well. I was the original after all.” Roman teased, emerging from the other room and wrapping one arm around Logan’s waist. He pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek and Dorian wrinkled his nose as he kicked off his boots.

“Ew, gross, get a room.”

Roman rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Oh, how I miss when you were young, our little angel. Now you’re 13 and have joined your brothers with your sassy teenage angst.”

“When was he ever an angel?” Thomas laughed, teasing, laughing harder when Dorian whacked his shoulder.

“Yes, yes, you’re all demons, the lot of you.” Logan said dryly. “Now, dinner will be ready soon, so you’d better get showered and changed. Put your costumes and weapons in a bag to be sterilized and anything else that could be considered evidence in another bag to be destroyed. Thomas, use the main bathroom, Dorian use the one in our bedroom.”

“Yes, Father.” Thomas and Dorian chorused, and Roman reached out to ruffle both of their hairs before they left the room.

“They grow up so fast.” He said to Logan, pulling his husband close to his chest.

“Children tend to do that,” was his husband’s answer, before he pulled him into a light kiss.


	3. Chapter Two

“We’re serial killers, Brian, not petty thieves.” Logan stated, arms crossed as he stared back at the other man. Logan and his three husbands were currently in their living room with Hart and Brian, their four teenagers walking back home from school as they spoke.

Hart gasped loudly at that. “The Bloody Necklace is one of the most valuable pieces of jewellery in the world! Stealing it would be so much more than petty thievery.”

“Well, I- wait, what did you just call it?” Logan responded, raising one eyebrow at the name.

“The Bloody Necklace.” Brian repeated. “It’s been colloquially nicknamed that because the sheer number of red gems on it makes the wearer look like their throat’s been slit.”

“Ooh,” Patton cooed. “Sounds pretty.”

“Also, hundreds of people have been killed over it.” Hart added, grinning widely. “That’s enough blood to fill multiple bathtubs.” His face suddenly turned serious. “I’d _kill _to wear that thing. Literally.”

Brian cleared his throat. “Yes, well, whilst I’m sure it would suit you, dear, we’re actually planning on selling it. We could make quite the profit from that thing, and it would secure us a lot of new clients. As such, I don’t trust anyone who isn’t family to get it for us.”

“Okay, and what exactly would we get out of this?” Virgil spoke up from one of the couches, legs sprawled across Roman’s lap as they scrolled through Netflix. They were the only two who weren’t standing; being the least involved with the business side of things.

“You mean aside from assisting the family business and getting to kill a bunch of criminals?” Brian responded dryly. “You’d also get to keep the rest of the jewels you find. They may not be as valuable as the Bloody Necklace, but they’d fetch you a tidy profit. With that on top of what you have already, you could easily get all four kids through whatever college they want – no debt, and still living as comfortably as you are now.”

The four husbands paused at that, thinking it over individually for a moment or two, before turning and glancing at each other. Eventually, Logan sighed.

“Okay, fine, what are the details of this… heist?”

Before anyone else could say anything, the living room door burst open, having been suddenly kicked open by Remy, making all six adults jump.

“Did someone say heist?” Remy grinned, hands on hips.

His brothers followed shortly behind him, Emile rolling his eyes at his twin’s antics, standing just behind him, as Thomas and Dorian made their way to the empty couch, dropping their schoolbags beside it and collapsing into the cushions.

Logan sighed. “Remy, please, you’re going to break the door.”

“We were standing there for about a minute.” Dorian said, though his words were slightly muffled by the cushions. “We heard pretty much everything you just said. He made us wait ‘til there was a word he could use for his dramatic entrance.”

Virgil snorted, poking Roman’s arm. “Oh, he’s your son, alright.”

“You say that like it’s an insult!” Roman gasped dramatically, before turning to Remy and grinning back at him. “I’d give that entrance an eight out of ten. It could have used more gay jokes and singing, otherwise it was perfect.”

Remy rolled his eyes, making his way over to where the rest of the adults were stood, Emile right behind him. “Sure, Pa.” He said sarcastically. “Next time I’ll do that.”

“How was school?” Patton piped up, leaning forward and ruffling both the twins’ hair. Remy grumbled a complaint, pushing his dad’s hand away and reaching up to fix his hair.

“It was okay.” Emile answered, holding back a laugh at Remy’s reaction, letting his dad continue messing with his hair. “We had a pop quiz, but I think I did okay.”

Dorian groaned, finally sitting up and crossing his arms. “School sucked; I hate my teacher.”

“Aww, he’s starting his angsty teen phase!” Hart cooed. “That’s adorable.”

The 13-year-old turned and glared (albeit weakly) at him.

“Hey,” Patton scolded gently. “Don’t glare at your uncle, that’s just rude.” Hart was Patton’s cousin, so he wasn’t technically their uncle, but it was close enough, so the kids just referred to Brian and Hart as that.

“Sorry, Uncle Hart.” Dorian mumbled reluctantly, but Hart just laughed, moving towards him and ruffling his hair.

After a few more moments of this, Logan cleared his throat. “Okay, well, as entertaining as this is, we really must get back on track. Brian, could you please give us the details of this heist.”

Brian nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He then moved over to the coffee table and knelt down, flattening the paper across it, and revealing the blueprints of a large warehouse.

“The owner of this warehouse is one Nathan Bakerson, the leader of the group of criminals currently in possession of this collection of jewellery. The building’s a six-hour drive away, so you’ll want to do this on a weekend, possibly a Friday night, to fit it in without disrupting school.” Brian started, the rest of the family gathering around the blueprints too. “As you can see, there’s a large main room, used mostly for storage, and multiple smaller rooms surrounding it. There aren’t any security cameras, according to our guy on the inside – he plans on staying home on the night of the heist, so you need not worry about accidentally killing him – and the jewels will be in the main room, heavily guarded. There’ll be a few dozen people there overall, and we suggest you kill everyone in all of the side rooms before you reach the main one, so you won’t have to worry about anyone escaping and calling for backup.”

Brian spent the next ten minutes or so going over some of the final details, before he finally looked up at the rest of the family.

“So, are you in?”

They all exchanged a few looks, before Roman turned to Brian and grinned.

“Definitely.”

***

A few hours had passed, and Hart and Brian had left and gone back home by now. Patton and Emile were baking in the kitchen, Virgil was taking a bath and Remy was chilling in his room, leaving the remaining four members of the family in the living room. Logan and Roman were on one couch – the former was currently tapping at his phone, a book laying in his lap, and the latter was scribbling enthusiastically in a notebook – and Thomas and Dorian were on the other couch, playing a card game and talking quietly.

After a few more minutes of this, Roman paused in his writing, reading over his words with a creased brow. He then began to sigh loudly and dramatically, doing so multiple times until his family finally took notice. Logan glanced up at Roman, giving him a look, before tapping at his phone a few more times and placing it down on the coffee table, beside Thomas and Dorian’s card game.

“Roman, just tell us what is wrong, your sighing is getting tedious.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses and giving his husband a pointed look.

“I’m glad you asked!” Roman exclaimed, sitting up straighter and brandishing his notebook. “I’m trying to write some dialogue for my next murder novel, but I just can’t tell if it flows well! I know I’m a genius when it comes to stuff like this, but writing’s just so hard! I’m stumped!”

Logan hummed in thought. “Well, I could look over it, too, if you so desire.”

“I appreciate the thought, my love.” Roman gave him a grateful smile. “But your talents lie in detecting grammatically errors, not in character’s emotions.” He paused for a moment, before his eyes lit up, and he turned to his two sons. “Thomas, Dorian, my amazing, beautiful, incredibly talented sons who I love very much…”

They both turned to him, Thomas with one eyebrow raised and Dorian with a dry look on his face.

“What do you want, Papa?” The 18-year-old asked, amused.

Roman grinned. “Well, you both share my love of acting, do you not?” They both nodded. “And you both clearly inherited by skill for it, of course. So, could you, I don’t know… maybe act out part of this scene for me? The characters are sitting down, so you wouldn’t have to move around much, and it’s not too long, I swear!”

Thomas blinked a few times in surprise, before reaching out and taking the notebook, placing it between himself and Dorian, so they could both read it.

“Just from the top of this page-” Roman pointed to the second open page. “-to the end of what I’ve written so far.”

Dorian snorted. “You named the girl ‘Dee’.”

“Yup!” Roman chirped. “You can be her, if you like. The backstory’s that Dee and her father are being threatened by an old family friend into helping him kill all of his enemies, and Dee accidentally dragged her best friend, Josh, into it. This scene’s them talking about it.”

Thomas and Dorian flicked through the pages of the section a few times, before the former cleared his throat and began to read.

“Dee,” He read softly. “It’s not your fault, it’s not either of our faults. We… we’re not… he’s _making _us do these things. If- if we don’t kill for him, he’ll torture and kill us himself!”

Dorian choked back a sob, and Roman’s grin widened with pride at his sons’ acting skills – they rivalled his own. Logan blinked a few times in surprise at that, slightly taken aback by how genuine their acting seemed.

“But… but… I don’t _want _to kill people.” Dorian whimpered, again alarming his fathers at how realistic it sounded. “Yesterday, he made me stab that guy… I had to watch as he bled out, begging for mercy. I know that Father said it wasn’t my fault, but…”

Thomas put one hand on Dorian’s shoulder – following the actions written in the notebook – using the other to turn the page.

“It’s not your fault.”

Dorian paused for a moment, eyes darting down to the page, before continuing. “Is it bad that I still care about him? I mean… most of the time, when we’re not actually- you know- doing the murdering, he’s just so nice! And I just… I don’t know…”

“I feel that way, too, sometimes.”

They stayed like that for a few more seconds, before both boys seemed to snap out of character in unison.

“I think it’s good!” Thomas smiled, picking up the notebook and passing it back to Roman. “Maybe you should cut down on the description a bit, though, it kinda decreases the emotional impact of the scene.”

Roman hummed in thought, looking over his pages again, as Logan picked his phone back up, tapping at it a few more times before pocketing it with a sigh.

“Well, thanks for the feedback, kids!”

Just as he finished saying that, Virgil came down the stairs, stepping into the living room, dressed in black and purple pyjamas with a golden crown in the centre of the shirt – Roman had gotten it for him. He paused as soon as he arrived, though, brow creasing when he spotted Dorian.

“Wait, have you been crying?”


	4. Chapter Three

For the first time in a long time, the Sanders’ household was quiet. Patton and Roman were out on a date; Thomas, Remy and Dorian were all chilling in their rooms and Virgil, Logan and Emile were all in the living room. The two dads were seated on one couch, Virgil playing on his phone and Logan reading, while Emile sat on the other, chewing on his lip as he tried to concentrate on the TV.

All of a sudden, a knock sounded at the front door and Emile immediately sprung up to open it.

“I got it!” He shouted, loud enough for the whole house to hear. “No one else get it, I got it!”

Virgil exchanged an amused look with Logan, who flipped another page in his newspaper. “You know, dear? I think Toby might be coming over.”

“What would give you that impression?” Logan deadpanned. 

A few moments later, Emile came back into the living room, Toby trailing behind him. Both with cheeks a little pinker than before. Fortunately, Logan and Virgil weren’t the type to comment on that, as Patton and Roman definitely would have been.

“Toby’s here!” Emile said cheerfully.

A loud thud sounded from upstairs, followed by pounding footsteps as someone rushed down the staircase. Within moments, a beaming Remy was in front of Toby and Emile, his sunglasses a little lopsided on his face. 

“Dude!” He exclaimed, adjusting his sunglasses. “Did you get taller since I saw you?”

Toby snorted. “You just saw me two days ago, bro.”

“Which only proves that your dads are feeding you miracle grow or something,” Remy said. “You’re, like… two stories tall!”

Toby chuckled. “I’m only six five, dude.” 

“Like I said, two stories tall.” 

The three laughed for a bit before Remy dragged Toby over to the couch, shoving him onto it and then settling himself in his best friend’s lap. Emile giggled at the interaction and sat down beside them. Virgil and Logan exchanged another look and got up in unison, electing to retire to their bedroom and leave the teenagers to their own devices.

“So,” Toby said. “You guys do anything exciting without me?” 

“Nope,” Remy groaned. “It’s all been boring and gross. No one does anything fun or cool and I’ve been boooooreeeed.”

Toby snorted again, running his hand through Remy’s hair. “Sounds like it. Good thing I came to rescue you from that pit of boredom, huh?”

“If you can get him to stop saying he’s bored, too, we’ll get you a medal,” Emile said dryly.

“Hey!” 

Toby laughed at Remy’s indignant face. “Relax, Rem, I’m here now to cure you of your boredom. Wanna play some Smash Bros?”

***

Three tournaments later, and Remy remembered why he hated playing Smash with Emile. 

“How?” He demanded, almost pouting. “Tell me right now how you keep winning.”

Emile shrugged lightly. “I dunno, I’m just doing my best.”

“No! No, you’re literally not! You’re practically playing with one hand and as _Rosaline_! Literally the _worst_ character you could play as. And _yet_… you keep beating us both!”

Emile shrugged again with a slightly sheepish smile. Toby chuckled, tossing his controller onto the couch. 

“Well, for starters, you suck at this game, Remy.” Toby said simply, and Remy squawked, which he ignored. “It’s not fair to compare anyone to you when you’re just… really bad at it.”

Emile giggled and Remy huffed. 

“Why does he keep beating you, then?” He asked. 

Toby shrugged. “I never said I was any good at Smash Bros either. Plus, Emile’s just good, man.”

Emile blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. I wouldn’t say I’m that good at it! I just… know you both really well. I can tell how you think and what you might do next so… yeah.” 

Toby and Remy blinked at him. 

“Em…” 

“Dude…”

“How the fuck are you able to keep your thoughts in one place long enough to not only figure out what’s going on in front of you but what’s gonna happen and what we’re gonna do?” Remy exclaimed.

“That’s incredible! I mean the level of focus-”

“That’s not FAIR! How come you’re so much smarter?” 

“I mean really it’s just-”

Remy gasped. “You stole all my brain cells from the womb, didn’t you?”

The blush in Emile’s cheeks dissipated and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, Remy. That’s exactly what happened, obviously. I, as a fetus, took all the brain cells while we were still being formed. Precisely.”

Remy pouted. “Well, no need to be so sarcastic, you’re starting to sound like Dorian.” 

Emile shrugged again with a smile. Remy glowered and turned to look at Toby to share in the indignancy. He paused, looking at his bestie. Toby was gazing at Emile, looking utterly besotted and in awe. His cheeks were dusted with pink and his eyes were wide, but soft, as he looked at Emile. 

He'd almost forgotten… ugh. Why couldn’t they just kiss already and make his life easier?

He groaned aloud and stretched, getting to his feet. “I’m getting snacks to make up for my bruised pride. And I’m making it with gluten so that the cheating thief of all my brain cells can’t have any!”

He stuck out his tongue and headed for the kitchen, ignoring their protests. 

Despite what he said, he made popcorn with M&Ms, a snack that everyone there could enjoy, but he drizzled chocolate over it, too, knowing the other two would complain. Victory. 

He sat down next to Toby with a smirk, the bowl in his hand proclaiming his win to Toby and Emile as he grabbed the remote. 

“Let’s watch TV or something,” He said. “I’m tired of losing.”

***

“So am I staying over tonight or…” Toby trailed off, once their second movie had finished

“Sure.” Remy said. “Let the dads know, Em, and I’ll pull out the spare mattress.”

Toby smiled and wandered off to make a phone call. The twins, meanwhile, wandered upstairs to let their dads know and start gathering blankets for an overnight blanket nest. 

“Do we still have his onesie from last time?” Emile asked. 

“More like from twenty-three times ago. But yeah, we’ve got it. Dad even washed it pretty recently so it’ll be all good and fluffy.”

“Toothbrush?”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a couple spares here.”

“What about tomorrow’s clothes?”

“Okay, _mom_, chill!” Remy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “This isn’t the first time Toby’s stayed over and it’s not gonna be the last. What’s with the quizlet, babe?”

Emile sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve just got… a feeling. A feeling that everything’s gonna change really fast really soon.”

Remy reached over and poked his brother’s forehead. “Give that big brain of yours a rest. Being anxious is Pops and Thomas’ schtick, so let’s leave it to the experts. Even if something does change, we’ll handle it, ‘cos we’re the best and we’ve got each other no matter what.”

Emile rolled his eyes fondly but grabbed Remy’s hand, squeezing it. 

“Thanks, Rem.”


	5. Chapter Four

“And then, Auntie April and I walked into the kitchen to find Patton – who was sixteen at the time, I was only six – and he was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, having just eaten over half of the cookies from the tray, and  he had the  _ guiltiest  _ look on his face I have ever seen.” Hart laughed as his cousin pouted, all of their husbands chuckling, too. “Auntie April, of course, is an angel, and all she does is give him a sympathetic smile and say ‘difficult day, Sweetie?’ to which Patton responds by nodding,  since his mouth was  way, way too full to speak.”

“ Don’t be so mean!” Patton protested, though there were the hints of a smile on his face. “I’d had a rough day!”

Roman lightly elbowed Patton, who was sat between him and Hart (Virgil, Logan and Brian were  sitting opposite them).

“Did you mess up a job?” Roman teased, deliberately vague as they were out in public. 

Patton stuck out his tongue . “Never.”

“Speaking of jobs.” Brian spoke up, as Roman took a sip of his wine. “We’ve almost got all of your new equipment ready; you’ll definitely have everything in a couple weeks, just in time. We can go into the details another time, though.”

The six men were out on a double date of sorts at an Italian restaurant. It was a rare treat for them all to be out together, but it was also partly a way of celebrating the fact that Brian and Hart were becoming parents. It had been in the works for a while now, but in just a week’s time they’d be able to take home their new children: a son and a daughter, both only three years old. 

Logan opened his mouth to  respond to Brian , perhaps to unintentionally say something incriminating, but  he was interrupted by the arrival of their waitress . They were finally receiving their food . 

She placed two plates of spaghetti down in front of Virgil and Roman, and the latter immediately grinned , his eyes brightening.

Virgil sighed, trying not to smile, as Roman grabbed both of their plates , pouring all of the spaghetti onto one of them and placing it down in front of them. Some of it fell off the plate but most of it landed on the plate in a gigantic spaghetti mountain that no human should be able to naturally eat all by themselves.

“Let’s Lady and the Tramp this spaghetti.” Roman said, eyes  shining as he pushed the empty plate to the side. “I’m gonna make sure we kiss a  _ bunch  _ of times.”

“ How t ragic.” Virgil said dryly,  but he clearly trying not to laugh. “Here I was, hoping to go through this date without getting kissed at all.”

Roman made a pouty face at him. “Don’t even joke about such a travesty. Your face should never go  unkissed .”

Hart leant closer to his cousin. “Patton, you have impeccable taste in men.” He mumbled, only just loud enough for the two of them to hear .

“Absolutely.” Patton sai d, dead serious .

Logan sighed, but looked at them fondly.

The waitress returned with two more plates, her eyebrows shooting upwards when she spotted the state of the spaghetti.

“You can take the empty one . Er- please.” Virgil said, after she’d placed down the other two plates in front of Logan and Brian.

She didn’t comment as she took it, but her expression spoke  for her .

“They’re going to kick us out.” Logan  warned as he watched Roman very deliberately grab one of the spaghetti strands Virgil was about to eat, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“The manager asked for my autograph,” Roman said smugly. “They won’t be kicking us out anytime soon, trust me.”

Hart grinned. “Bless you for using your fame for good.” 

Roman preened. “Only the best for my beloved husbands and treasured in-laws.”

The waitress returned with the final two plates of food, and the six men settled into  a c omfortable silence as they dug in.  It was, of course, constantly broken by Roman pressing kisses to Virgil’s lips , and the occasional comment from the rest of the group.

However, their peace was finally broken by the loud complaints of a  wo man at the table beside them.

“ Oh, come on, you’re a guy! What do you mean, you’re not gonna put out?” She exclaimed, scowling as her date shrunk in on himself. “Come on, man up!”

The six men all exchanged a look of disgust , before Roman suddenly sat up straighter, pulling out his phone.

“Virgil, Honey,” He simpered. “We absolutely  _ must  _ take a selfie together: with the spaghetti, too, of course.  Gotta keep the fans updated on how aesthetic our life is!”

His husband caught on immediately, and they both leaned partially across the table. Roman then managed to take a selfie that included him, Virgil, the spaghetti, and the woman, who had been sneering at them while they took it, showing off her entire face, and unwittingly signing her death warrant. 

Roman looked it over and smirked, winking at his husbands as he pocketed his phone.

“You know,” He said coyly. “I just had the  _ greatest  _ idea for a training exercise for Dorian! Gotta get him more involved with the business side of things, am I right?”

“Absolutely, my dear.” Patton smiled, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder.  “We’ll discuss things in more detail when we get home, okay?”

Roman hummed in agreement, and the six of them watched as the man from the table stood up and rushed off to the  bathroom – hopefully to call himself a ride home, but more likely just to compose himself before coming back.

They then observed with blatant disgust as the woman pulled a small tablet out of her pocket and dropped it into his drink, mixing it in with his unused spoon, before sitting back in smug satisfaction.

Virgil stood up immediately. He tilted his head in the direction of the toilets and mouthed, ‘I’m gonna go tell him.’

He then walked off, glaring venomously at the woman as he went. She glared  back but didn’t seem to realise what he was doing.

“I’m going to go tell the manager.” Logan said simply,  standing up and adjusting his tie. He then dropped all pretence of subtlety and stared straight at the woman. “That kind of behaviour will not be tolerated. You’re going to be kicked out.”

She  threw up her hands in annoyed confusion. “ What t he hell did I do?”

He ignored her, turning away and striding across the room, heading towards where their waitress was talking with a few other staff members.

The woman turned to the remaining four Sanders men, but they all turned away from her, focussing on their food again, so she just huffed and crossed her arms.  Logan returned soon, followed by a stone-faced woman with a badge reading ‘manager’.

Logan sat back in his chair, as the manager walked up to the woman.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The woman stood up, enraged. “What the fuck? I haven’t done anything wrong! It’s those disgusting queers who should be kicked out, they’re being totally inappropriate. Kissing and shit, right in front of my dinner, ruining my date ’s appetite .”

In response, Roman pulled Patton into a deep kiss, and Hart leant across the table to pull Brian into a similar one. Logan looked on smugly, adjusting his glasses. 

“I’d say you were the one ruining your own date, Ma’am.” He corrected. “Loudly complaining about how he won’t ‘put out’ – interrupting our own double date, might I add – and then drugging your date’s drink while he’s in the bathroom. Your behaviour’s highly inappropriate.”

The woman began to swear excessively,  not even pausing for breath as she  was escorted out. Her date returned shortly after, Virgil following after him.

“What… what’s happening?” The man asked, looking around worriedly.

Logan cleared his throat. “ I informed the manager of her drugging your drink, and she was kicked out.”

Roman moved to put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “The name’s Roman Sanders. These are my husbands: Logan, Virgil and Patton.” He pointed to them as he said each of their names. “And this is Patton’s cousin, Hart, and his cousin, Brian.”

The man nodded slowly, a little awkwardly. “I’m Adam, Adam Lexinus, it’s nice to meet you all.”

“Well, Adam, would you like to finish eating with us?” Patton smiled. “You could push your table so it’s connected to ours – and get a new drink, of course.”

Adam blinked a few times in surprise. “Oh, uh… well, okay then. Thanks!”

They did just that, pushing the tables together and allowing Adam to join them. He was pretty friendly, a sweet , kinda nerdy guy who definitely deserved better than the woman he’d been on the date with.

Apparently, she was a friend of a friend of a friend, or so Adam’s friend had told him. He definitely wasn’t asking her for relationship advice again.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Brian asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh, I’m a cop.” Adam said, digging into his food, seeming a lot livelier than he had been on his date.

The Sanders men exchanged a subtle look, one that Adam fortunately didn’t notice, as he was too busy digging into his food.

“Really?” Logan asked. “Virgil and I used to be, too, but we had to quit some time ago due to familial issues .”

Adam blinked a few times in surprise. “Oh, really? Wow, I never would have guessed, you don’t seem the type.”

Roman held back a laugh, coughing loudly into his hand, ignoring the look his husbands gave him.

“Oh, well you know ,” Virgil shrugged. “Sometimes life doesn’t go the way you expect it to.”

***

A couple hours later, Hart and Brian arrived home , holding onto each other, slightly tipsy as Hart pressed dozens upon dozens of kisses against his husband’s face.

“I love you… so much, you know?” He giggled, and Brian smiled.

“I love you, too.”

They helped each other out of their coats and shoes, stumbling up the stairs, making their way into their bedroom, and collapsing onto their bed. They softly made out for a few minutes, before Hart finally pulled away, holding Brian’s face tenderly between his hands.

“Brian… Brian , sweetheart …” He whispered. “We’re going to be dads!”

Brian smiled softly. “Yes, I know. It’s been in the works for months, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hart laughed lightly. “But, it’s just, we’re picking them up next week! Its so far yet so close and I just- I can’t wait! And they’re so cute and tiny and beautiful! And they’re gonna be ours to cuddle and kiss and raise and- _B__rian__!_”

“Missy and Peter Sanders.” Brian hummed in thought. “It has a nice ring to it.”

His husband sighed , joy bursting out of the noise, spilling over and washing Brian in fresh joy . “I know, right?” He then paused, before looking back at Brian. “I’d say twins run in the Sanders family, but does it really count when it’s adoption?”

Brian thought it over. “I’d probably phrase it as… adopting twins runs in the family, instead.”

Hart chuckled, before leaning forward and pressing a passionate kiss to his husband’s lips. 


	6. Chapter Five

“Baron? Did you take one of my poisons again?”

Dorian looked away nervously. “...no?”

“You did!” Emile huffed , crossing his arms . “You know , you can just  _ ask _ .”

“If I ask , you’ll say no!”

“ _ Yeah _ _ , _ _ but _ _ -” _

“Boys.” Logan said sternly. “Continuing to fight like this will only result in our victim getting away.”

“Yes Father.” The two said sulkily. 

Emile sent Dorian a small glare before rising and stretching a little. “I always hate this part.” He pouted. “Waiting and waiting without being able to watch cartoons or anything.”

“It’s not so bad,” Virgil shrugged. “Yeah it can get a little boring but the quiet is nice.”

“Quiet is boring.” Dorian said. “All you’ve got to listen to is your own thoughts and they can get really weird.

Virgil frowned sympathetically and reached over to pat Dorian’s shoulder. “I’ll bring headphones next time we go out together, okay?”

Dorian beamed at him. “Okay!”

“Everyone,” Logan said, voice quiet, soft, and urgent. “She’s here.”

The other three peered over the edge of the fire escape and the teens grinned. Wa l king down the alley, hauling a bag of trash beside her, was a tall woman with long black hair – the same woman from the  double date about a week ago . She was wearing a white hoodie with the word “pink” across the back in all caps. They watched her for a few moments before Dorian gracefully flipped off the side, causing his Pops to let out an audible gasp of panic.

“Excuse me.” Dorian said sweetly. “Do you know where my  father is?”

The woman turned, face sour and irritated . Her expression dropped as she took in his costume , her eyes widening . 

“You- you ’re -” she stammered , stumbling back .

“Is that a no?” Dorian asked , smile widening . “Pity , bec ause I do . ”

His family joined him in moments and Virgil set down the ice cooler in favor of fretting. 

“You’re going to get yourself hurt one of these days!” He said,  walking over to his son and looking him over,  brushing off imaginary dust as if that would brush off any potential injury. “Baron, you have to be more careful!”

Dorian huffed. “I was careful!”

“It didn’t look careful to me!”

“Well , it was, so it’s okay.” 

Virgil gave him a scolding  look . “That does not make it okay at all.”

“Overl o rd!” Dorian whined , practically stomping his foot as he crossed his arms . “You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’d rather embarrass you than have you-”

“Pardon me, darling, but the victim is trying to escape.” Logan interrupted. 

“Oh , whoopsie!” Emile exclaimed.

He pulled out a  miniature crossbow and shot it at the  back of the  woman ’s neck; she let out a small shriek before falling to the ground limply. The four of them strode over to her and Emile gently removed his syringe from her shoulder.

“Your aim is getting better, Viscount.” Logan said.

Emile beamed at the compliment . Virgil nudged the woman with his toe. 

“Is she already dead?”

Emile shook his head. “Nah , j ust paralyzed. She’s fully aware of what’s going on, she just can’t do anything about it.”

“That’s pretty fast acting.” Virgil commented.

“Yeah, but it’ll wear off soon, too. So…” Emile trailed off, looking a u Dorian pointedly.

“Oh , r ight.” 

Dorian grabbed the woman’s shoulders and rolled her over. He squatted down , looming over her, even as small as he was. He paused  for  a moment, watching the fear gli mm er in her eyes like  a million diamonds.

“It’s not nice to tamper with people’s drinks, you know.” Dorian told her , as if he was scolding a small child . “We find out about those things , but fear of us shouldn’t be the only reason you have anything resembling human decency. Now , normally, we’d let you off with a warning, but I’m afraid that we’re a little in need of something in here.”

He ran a finger across her stomach, coming to rest at her navel and tapping it once before withdrawing it again.

“So, as you can see, it really can’t be helped. It will go to a good cause , probably,  though I’m sure you don’t care about that. But as a secondary apology from me to you, I’ll make it quick.”

Without any further ado, Dorian drew his dagger, ignoring the small whimper that elicited from the woman. He lifted the blade and gave her his most reassuring smile before stabbing downwards, into her neck. 

She was gone in moments. Two beats of the heart at most. The last two beats of her miserable life.

Dorian wiped off his blade and Virgil set the icebox near him.

“What does the buyer want with her organ, anyway?” Dorian asked, and Virgil shrugged.

“ No clue,  but  it’s not our job to know. Just l et us know if you need a hand, okay?” He said. “Once you get in there, things tend to look all the same.”

Dorian nodded. “I know , b ut Father showed me one of those anatomy models earlier so I think I kinda got it. Everything is gonna look like squishy red stuff, but I’m looking for the  _ round _ squishy red thing.”

Virgil smirked and ruffled Dorian’s hair. “Whatever works, squirt. Just take your time, we’ll make sure you’re not bothered.”

Dorian smiled up at him. He turned, opened the icebox, and sat down, criss - cross applesauce in front of the corpse. He sheathed his knife and reached into his jacket to pull out the tools Uncle Hart gave him. 

“At least one of you needs to be able to do this properly,” He’d said. “As lucrative as you lot can be, I would like something I sell to have an air of precision.”

Dorian was honored to have been chosen for that. He would have thought Emile the more obvious choice, but when he’d said that , Emile told him that he hated the feeling of th ose squishy  internal organs, regardless of whether he was actually touching them or not. Seeing them he was fine with by this point, but touching them reminded him that something similar was inside his own body and it made him squeamish. Dorian thought that was weird, but , hey! It meant he got to poke around with a scalpel , so it worked for him.

Dorian took a deep breath and made the incision. 

***

A few  hour s later Uncle Brian looked over his prize with a critical eye. 

“Why are there two?” He asked.

Dorian shrugged. “Father told me to get the round squishy red thing and I found two. I didn’t know which one you wanted so I grabbed them both.”

Brian nodded and turned over the bigger one. “They look to be in pretty good conditio n, t hough it looks like you cut off the part of the second one that would have made it useful.”

Dorian winced. “Oh… sorry.”

Brian smiled at him and moved to pat him before seeming to remember his gloves were covered in blood and organ goop . 

“It’s alright, Dorian.” He said. “That wasn’t the one I needed anyway, and for your first time you did a very good job!” 

“Really?”

“Really.” Brian gestured him closer and pointed at the tube coming out of the bigger organ. “You see that incision in the esophagus? That’s very close to a perfect cut! And the cut down here-” He turned it over again, pointing to the bottom tube. “-That one’s even almost all the way around. Very, very good for your first time doing something like this! I think in the future we’ll have to make you our official harvester- um- after you get some more practice and only if your dads are okay with that, of course.”

Dorian beamed at his uncle. “That’d be so cool! Wait  ‘ til I tell Remy, he’s gonna be so jealous.”

Brian chuckled and put the organ back in the  freezer  box. He took off his gloves and closed it before giving Dorian a hug. 

“Don’t rub it in his face too hard, you might scrape something off.” He joked.

“Like his smug smirk?” Dorian said with an eyeroll. “I’ll be nice, don’t worry.

“Alright, alright.” Brian laughed again before pulling away and patting Dorian on the head. “I have to talk with your dads for a moment, but it was good to see you. And you really did do a good job, you just need a little extra practice, okay?”

Dorian nodded. “Okay! Love you!”

“Love you too!”

Brian picked up the ice cooler , tucking it under his arm and left the room. Dorian followed him until they got to the living room. He then  spotted Remy and smirked.

He let Brian go to the kitchen by himself in favor of plopping onto Remy’s lap smugly , causing his older brother to grunt in annoyance .

“Uncle Brian said I’m better at getting organs than you are!” He said, sticking out his tongue. 

Remy looked offended. “He did not!”

“He did! And I am, so there!” 

Dorian squawked as Remy shoved him, dumping him onto the floor.

“Maybe so,” Remy scowled playfully. “But I’m totally the best in general. I mean, just look at my kill count, babe!”

“That’s not fair!” Dorian whined. “You had a head start!”

Remy hummed and flicked Dorian’s nose. “All ’ s fair in love and murder, Dory baby.”

Dorian pouted and sat on the floor in a sulk , pulling his knees to his chest and crossing his arms . “You suck.”

Remy let out a cry and clutched his chest. “Ah! Such biting words from my own little brother!”

Dorian rolled his eyes and  yanked Remy off the couch, quickly clambering up and taking his seat.

He stuck his tongue out again. “Careful , doofus. You’re gonna turn into Papa.”

Remy somehow looked even more offended at that. “How dare you! I am nothing like that lumbering drama class of a man! He’s practically a monster, singing randomly whenever he feels like it, acting out random scenes. The worst kind of criminal. Don’t compare me to that man!”

Dorian laughed and started to reply when Logan walked in, pocketing his phone. 

“Everything alright in here?” he asked.

“I’m the best at organ nabbing and Remy’s mad about being like Papa.” Dorian said.

Logan blinked a few times before continuing into the next room. 

“Carry on , then .”

“F ather !”


	7. Chapter Six

“Now, here’s the part where we’d usually add the poison, but as this is for the family, we’ll just finish mixing and put it in the oven, okay? Emile, did you preheat the oven?”

Emile hopped off the counter. “Yes, Dad, this isn’t the first time I’ve baked with you and Uncle Hart, I know what I’m doing.”

“Ooh…” Hart dipped a finger in the bowl and licked off a blob of cupcake mix. “What if we make them murder themed? You’ve got some red food colouring, right, for the icing?”

Patton swatted Hart’s hand away, but his eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Oh, I think we still have some candy eyeballs from Halloween! You two get the tray and put the mixture in the wrappers, and I’ll go look for them.”

He passed the bowl to his son and went digging through the cupboards as Hart and Emile began to follow his instructions.

Hart nudged Emile with his elbow. “So, got any gossip for me?”

Emile laughed. “I’m not Remy, I don’t keep up with that stuff.”

“That’s fair.” Hart nodded in agreement. “But what about the guy you two are always going on about? What was his name… Tim? Tony?”

“Toby.” Emile corrected, a light brush dusting his cheeks as he coughed awkwardly.

Patton pulled out a bag of candy eyeballs and some red food colouring from the cupboard. “Oh, Toby!” He smiled. “What a nice kid, how is he doing?”

“He’s, uh… good, I think?” Emile looked down, and Hart and Patton exchanged a look over his head.

“Ooh…” Hart cooed. “You’ve got a  _ crush _ !”

Emile squeaked. “What? Wh- no! No… uh, I…” He looked up to see both his dad and uncle giving him twin disbelieving looks. “Okay… maybe?”

“Aww... young love, that’s adorable!”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Emile mumbled. “I’m pretty sure it’s unrequited, anyway.”

Hart finished scooping cupcake mixture into the wrappers. “Pretty sure? As in you haven’t confessed, yet?”

“What? Of course, not!”

“He’s shy.” Patton exclaimed, reaching out and ruffling Emile’s hair.

Emile spluttered, ducking his dad’s hand and moving to open the oven. He slid the tray inside and set a timer.

“ _ Now _ , can we talk about the gossip?” Hart smiled. “Come on, what’s this Toby guy like? How long have you liked him? Are you in  _ love _ ?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Emile pulling himself onto an empty counter, crossing his legs and pouting slightly. “He’s the only proper crush I’ve ever had, I’ve got nothing to compare it to. I know I like him a lot, but I don’t have enough experience to know what love truly is. Romantic love, that is, obviously.”

Patton put his hand on Emile’s shoulder. “Kiddo, you’re sixteen, you don’t have to know.”

“Yeah!” Hart piped up. “Now isn’t the time to get serious about love and relationships, now’s the time to have fun! Have crushes, go on dates. Break your heart, get your heart broken. It’s all gonna happen at some point – for those who are interested in relationships, that is – so why not now, when nothing matters?”

Emile looked down, fiddling with his hands. “I- I don’t know… I just keep getting this gut feeling, you know? Every time I think of confessing my feelings to him, and I get the feeling that something super bad’s gonna happen after the confession, so I don’t.”

“Heartbreak’s part of the process, kiddo. If you never take risks, you’ll never find love.”

“You think so?” Emile looked up at his dad and uncle, and they nodded in unison.

Hart put his hand on Emile’s other shoulder. “We know so, kid. I’d never have found true love with Brian if I hadn’t taken a risk and asked him out. What you and Toby have may not be love, but you’ll never know if you don’t take a leap of faith and tell him how you feel. 

“Anything bad that may happen, you can handle it.” Patton added. “You’ll always have us to fall back on, Kiddo, even when you’re all grown up.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Patton stepped back, dusting some flour off his apron. “You know, I think Roman and Logan are looking over some blueprints for the warehouse we’re breaking into, why don’t you go give them a hand? I think they’re in our room.”

Emile hopped off the counter. “Sure. Maybe I’ll ask Papa for some advice with the Toby thing, too, he’s good at that kinda thing.”

“He sure claims to be.” Hart laughed as Patton elbowed him lightly.

Emile left the kitchen, passing his three brothers, who were doing homework at the table, supervised by Virgil – otherwise they wouldn’t get anything done – and heading upstairs, to his parents’ room. He pushed the door open, brow creasing when he spotted his dads standing by the chest of drawers, instead of by the desk, where the blueprints lay abandoned.

Roman and Logan looked to have been in the middle of a heated discussion – it had sounded like an argument from outside the room, but they seemed to have calmed down immediately after Emile entered the room. Logan picked his phone up from the dresser and pocketed it.

“Uh… is everything okay?” Emile asked, shifting awkwardly.

His dads exchanged a look. 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Emile.” Logan reassured, moving to place his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Roman and I were simply having a disagreement about how to handle certain aspects of the heist – nothing too serious, it was resolved just before you got in here.”

Roman nodded, giving Emile a comforting smile, and after another moment or two, Emile relaxed, turning and walking over to the blueprints.

“The cupcakes are already in the oven, so Dad sent me upstairs to help you guys out with the heist planning.” He glanced back at his dads. “What have you got so far?”

Logan stepped over to explain, and the gist of it was that the family would split into teams of two to take out most of the people in the warehouse, before they all would make their way to the main room, take out the rest of the people and then leave with all the jewellery to sell through Hart and Brian. They’d been getting new equipment – like full-face masks, bullet-proof vests to wear under their costumes and better weapons specifically for this heist, to make sure everything went smoothly. They had perfectly planned routes to take and a rough estimate as to how many people would be there.

“This will be risky,” Logan admitted. “But we’re taking every precaution we can, and the money will be worth it. It’s an investment in your futures.”

Roman threw his arms over his son and husband’s shoulders. “Plus, we’ll get to kill a bunch of bad guys, so that just makes everything better.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “That is another positive.”

“It sounds fun!” Emile smiled. “Who’s gonna pair up with who?”

“Dorian’s gonna be with me,” Roman said. “I’ll keep him safe. You two are gonna be together, Thomas is gonna be with Virgil, and Remy’s gonna be with Patton.”

All of the sudden the door flew open, having just been kicked by Remy, who stepped inside, grinning. “Did someone say Remy?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “For the last time, please don’t kick the door, Remy, you’re going to break it.”

Remy pouted. “Ugh,  _ fine _ .” He put his elbow on Emile’s shoulder, leaning against him. “So, what’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“We’re working out the heist plans.” Emile said, pushing his brother’s arm off of his shoulder. “It’s gotta be-”

“Ugh, bor _ ing _ .” Remy interrupted, faking a yawn dramatically, before grabbing Emile’s wrist and beginning to drag him out of the room. “C’mon, Em, I was just on the phone with Toby, there’s, like, so much school gossip I’ve gotta catch you up on.”

Emile glanced helplessly back at Logan and Roman as he was dragged out of the room, but they just shrugged in amusement. 

Once they were in their room, Remy flopped onto his bed, laying back and tapping at his phone. His brother sat down beside him. 

“Okay, so, like, Toby was acting  _ super  _ weird when he was on the phone with me, but he did manage to tell me that Sasha and Trinity broke up, which is like, terrible, right? They were the power couple of the school.” Remy sat up, pushing up his classes. “You know, you and Toby could be the power couple of the school, too...”

Emile squeaked, covering his face. “What? But- but he’d have to like me back for that, and-”

Remy groaned loudly, falling back onto his bed. “But he  _ does,  _ bro, he was literally just asking me about all your favourite things – favourite food, favourite candy, favourite flowers. I mean, he, like, definitely knew all of those things, already, but, still.”

Emile furrowed his brow, looking in thought. “You... you really think so?” 

Remy sat up, putting his hand on Emile’s shoulder. “I  _ know  _ so.”

Emile blushed a little, burrowing into his hands with a squeak. “Ahhhh! I don’t know. …I just hope it all works out, you know?”

“Yeah I know.” Remy chuckles. “But on the bright side… You two are gonna look so cute in the prom pics.”

Emile threw a pillow at him.


	8. Chapter Seven

Remy collapsed onto the couch, sprawling across Emile’s lap. The twins were the only two in the living room, the rest of their family having left after Logan’s lecture on the exact plan for the heist tomorrow. 

“Ugh, that was so  _ long _ .” He threw his arm over his face dramatically. “Why’d Father have to go into so much detail, we’ll be fine, he didn’t have to lecture us for, like, an hour.”

Emile rolled his eyes. “It’s  gonna be dangerous, Rem, we can’t risk anything. Everything has to be perfect for the heist tomorrow.”

“But did it have to be so  _ boring?” _

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang merrily, and Remy sprang from his seat. They weren’t expecting anyone, and the only ones who ever came over unexpectedly were Toby, Hart and Brian. Their uncles were busy today –  they’d just taken their new son and daughter home – so it had to be Toby. His bestie was always welcome, they had an open door and open window policy with one another, though Toby admittedly was never the one who took advantage of the second. 

Remy  threw open the door ,  grinning, before he paused to take in Toby’s outfit. “...Dude.  _ What _ are you wearing? Did you get all dressed up just for me?”

Toby  hesitated  for a  moment , letting Remy take in his flushed cheeks, his button-down shirt, the way his mouth moved without sound leaving it , h is wide eyes and t he  bouquet of  flowers in his hand. 

Remy’s jaw dropped. “No way. Are you-?  _ No way.” _

Toby’s cheeks grew even redder as he shifted awkwardly from side to side . “I- uh… I kinda didn’t come here for you this time, Rem.” He hesitated. “Can I see Emile?”

Remy let out a small, disbelieving laugh as he s tepped aside. Toby walked in, hands clutching the bouquet with white knuckles . He nervously chewed his lip, and  Remy reache d  out a hand and grasped his shoulder. 

“Dude,” He said gently. “It’s  gonna be okay. Emile is the same guy he was last time we hung out. Worst case scenario, he nicely tells you he’s not interested. Which won’t happen cause you’re meant to be and stuff. You’ve got this bro.”

Toby took a shaky breath and gave Remy a grateful smile. “ T hanks.”

Remy grinned. “I call best - man.”

“Please. ” Toby snorted. “ If anything, Emile and I would have to fight over you.”

Remy’s grin widened and he playfully socked Toby in the shoulder. “Go get  Em , Tiger.”

Toby took another deep breath and nodded before stepping further into the house , into the living room and over to Emile . Remy peeked in and watched as Toby  exchanged a few words with  him . Emile’s face turned pink, going completely red as Toby asked if they could go somewhere private for a minute. Emile nodded and the two of them headed up the stairs , to talk. Remy immediately found the rest of the family and dragged them to the sitting room to spread the news.

***

Emile double checked that everyone was in the living room before stopping Toby in the hallway.

“Here’s good.” He said. “Not ideal , but it’s better than a bathroom or something…”

Toby laughed a little nervously , running his fingers through his hair . The two stood in silence for a moment,  Emile watching as  Toby  rubbed the flowers stems with his thumb.

“I , uh-” Toby faltered. “I don’t really know what to say here.”

“Just say what you’re thinking.” Emile said gently.  Their eyes met for a moment, before they glanced away, blushing. 

Toby nodded slowly . “Right. Right…” He took a deep breath. “Emile. We- uh- we’ve been friends for a long time. I would say it started out as kind of by proxy, since you and Remy were joined at the hip and he sort of abducted me into friendship.”

Emile  giggled , which made  Toby smile  fondly  and seemed to bolster his courage a little. 

“I… I’d be lying if I said I liked you right away.” He admitted , slightly sheepishly . “Honestly , at first I thought you were kind of a buzzkill. But , then , one day , when we were… I think we were , like , ten or something ,  I saw you kneeling on the grass in front of a daisy , ignoring the rest of us . I asked you what you were doing , because to me it looked so weird , and you told me you were reuniting a ladybug family. And ,  sure enough , once I looked closer , I realized there was one ladybug on your finger and five on the daisy. Now , granted, those ladybugs probably didn’t care and may not even have been family, but , to ten-year-old Toby , it was just mind blowing that you were nice enough and sweet enough to go out of your way to find the ladybug’s family and reunite them. And I realized that you weren’t some super boring know-it-all, you were the only one doing anything important.  It may not have been that deep in reality, but it felt like a lot to a ten-year-old.

“At the time , I just wanted to be your friend, and I wanted to be your friend so bad I thought it might hurt. But when I told you that… you laughed at me , a nd you told me we were already friends.  That was when  I noticed that I loved the sound of your laugh , t hat I’d do pretty much anything to hear it and that I never wanted to be a reason you cry. And then that slowly turned into wanting to be there when you did cry, and I realized that… Emile I ’ve had a gigantic crush on you for years. This may seem a bit sudden but I- if I don’t act on it now and ask you out then I may never do it. So , uh … Emile Sanders, would you do me the honor of joining me on a date next Friday?”

Emile was certain his face had only gotten redder and redder as Toby spoke , his eyes widened, his mouth open in surprise .  H e was pretty confident that he was going to burst into flames soon. So , of course, that was the moment that Toby just  _ had  _ to hold out the bouquet. Emile accepted it carefully, and he felt like he was going to cry as he suddenly recognized all his favorite flowers.

“Toby…” He said slowly.

“You don’t have to say yes!” Toby said quickly. “And uh- I’ll get it if you need time. It’s a lot and I get that it might be  kinda overwhelming. And , if you say no ,  I totally get that , too, and I hope we can still be friends and-”

“Toby.” Emile said firmly.

He reached o ut with his free hand  and laced their fingers together. He smiled, first shy, then slowly growing as Toby shyly peeked out at him through his hair, those beautiful eyes looking at him as if Emile had flowers growing in his footsteps. Emile was a little startled to realize that Toby didn’t actually look any different from normal – other than the more formal outfit – y et , he was still oh -so- beautiful.

“I don’t think I need any more time at all,” Emile said softly. “Of course, I’ll go out with you, Toby.”

***

Remy grinned a s he paced across the living room,  back and forth,  still beaming. He plopped onto the couch between Roman and Dorian, feeling like his heart was gonna bust open from sheer happiness. 

“It’s finally happening!” He crowed , sprawling across his papa and little brother’s laps . “Toby and Emile are  gonna go out and be a sappy couple! At long, long last!”

Roman snorted. “It must be nice to  h a ve a twin.  It’s like having a built-in support system that also teases you.”

“That’s Just brothers in general.” Dorian said, shoving Remy’s feet off his lap. 

“Maybe so,” Roman chuckled. “Still, I’m glad you boys get to have each other , m akes me wish I’d had a sibling of my own.”

“It would be cool to have another uncle, but Uncle Brian and Uncle Hart are enough.” Dorian said. 

“Hello! Guys! Everyone!” Remy said. “Not the focus here! My brother is finally getting asked out by his  _ soulmate _ , for crying out loud! This is a once in a lifetime event!”

Roman raise d an eyebrow , exchanging an amused look with his husbands . “I don’t know about soulmates. You boys are just teenagers, after all.”

Remy groaned. “P apa, that’s  _ so _ n ot the point!”

Patton giggle d as he walked in from the kitchen , setting  out  a  plate  of cupcakes on the coffee table. 

“Well , it’ll certainly be cute regardless of where it goes. Toby seems like a nice boy.” 

“Toby is literally one of the best two people on the planet,” Remy said seriously . “The other one being Emile , w hich is why they’re destined to be together.”

Virgil reached out and took a cupcake.  “I wouldn’t jinx stuff like that,”  He warned. “High school relationships lasting for a long time is pretty rare. Something could always go wrong, you never know ”

“Oh , hush,” Roman said, t ossing  the nearest  pillow at Virgil , nearly knocking the cupcake out of his hand . “Even if it doesn’t last, they’ll be glad they tried it. True love takes work, sure, but we raised that boy right. He’ll put in the work it takes , and Tob y-”

“Toby is, like, legit the best, he’ll treat Emile right.” Remy said, confidently. 

Dorian sat up straight, grinning mischievously. " And , if he doesn’t, we run a sword through him.”

“We’re not doing that,” Thomas said. “Just- no. That’s not something we’re  gonna do.”

“Yeah ! T hat’s my  BFF  you’re talking about Dor,” Remy said, giving Dorian a light shove. “He’s not dying on us anytime soon.”

“Everyone quiet,” Logan said, “They’re coming.”

True enough, moments later Toby and Emile came down the stairs. Their faces were bright red, but they were grinning ear to ear.  Emile very deliberately ignored his grinning family members as he led Toby to the door.  The rest of the family peeked into the hall way . It wasn’t spying , though! Just watching , t otally. 

Remy’s grin grew as he watched the two of them pause at the door. Emile took a deep breath and tugged Toby down a little, rising on his toes to peck Toby’s cheek.  Roman covered Remy’s mouth to stop him from  screeching victoriously.

“See you Friday?” Emile asked with a nervous smile. 

“Friday.” Toby agreed. “See you then.”

Toby left and Emile closed the door behind him . He sighed softly, eyes closing, and he leaned against the wall. A soft smile played against his lips. 

He  then  cracked open his eyes, expression changing to shock when he saw his family piled around the corner. 

“G- guys !” He exclaimed , blushing furiously . “Ever heard of privacy?”

“We gave you privacy.” Remy pointed out. “Now , what’s going down on Friday? Give us all the details. ”

Emile blushed again. “Nothing! It’s just a date is all…”

_ “ _ _ Just a date _ _ ?” _ Remy exclaimed.

He ran up and grabbed Emile by the shoulders, shaking him a little. 

_ “Just a date! _ _ ?” _ He repeated. “Emile , I have been waiting for this date to happen for years! If you weren’t head over heels for the guy, I’d say that I’m even more excited than you!”

Emile rolled his eyes and gently shoved Remy off. “It- it’s not that big a deal…”

“On the contrary,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “A first date is a large milestone in a relationship. And a large milestone in the life of an  alloromantic young man.”

“Yeah , but-” 

“Guys.” Patton said, firm but with a playful spark in his eyes. “Leave Emile alone. If he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, then we won’t.”

Emile breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Dad.” 

“No problem!” Patton paused. “I will say, I’m glad you finally snatched that  young man up.”

“D ad !”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's two things I'd like to remind you guys before you read this chapter as they tripped me up for a moment upon rereading them lol. One - Toby's surname is Picani in this (cos Emile's is obviously Sanders) and Logan's alias is the Duke (as we chose it before Remus was introduced to Sanders Sides).
> 
> Hope you like this chapter 
> 
> \- Izzy

It was the night of the heist. 

The family had split up into pairs just before they’d reached the warehouse, so they could all enter in different locations and slowly work their way from the outside in. They were all wearing bullet-proof vests under their costumes, with better weapons and full-face masks to better hide their identities. 

Patton and Remy were a pair, entering round the back through a second-storey window. 

“Stay close.” Patton mumbled to his son as they ducked down behind a few stacks of crates. 

Remy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Dad, you don’t need to take care of me, I’m good at this.” 

Patton gave him a slightly exasperated look. “Knight, we’ve never done anything as dangerous as this before.” He whispered. “Stay close. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“But-” Remy cut himself off as a man turned the corner, heading in their direction. 

His dad opened his mouth to hush him, reaching out to hold Remy in place, but the teenager pulled away, jumping up and slitting the man’s throat before either he or Patton could protest. It was over and done with within seconds, and Patton stood up as the man fell to the ground, a gun slipping from his grasp and clattering against the floor. 

“Knight!” Patton hissed. “You should have waited for my signal and attacked him from behind. What were you thinking?” 

“You don’t need to worry.” Remy protested. “I’m fine, I can handle this!” He paused when he spotted his dad’s slightly hurt expression, before sighing. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re just- you're just looking out for me. You don’t need to do the puppy-dog eyes, I’m sorry.” 

Patton reached out and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay, let’s just finish this heist, and then we can all go home and eat ice cream. How does that sound?” 

Remy grinned. “Perfect.” 

He leaned down and clean his knife on the dead man’s clothes, before re-sheathing it. 

“Now,” Patton continued. “We have to kill everyone in this area, before heading to the middle to meet with the others.” He held up his crossbow, armed with another poison arrows to kill everyone in this building and then some. The father-son duo grinned at each other. 

“Let’s go.” 

*** 

Logan and Emile entered on the ground floor, the opposite side to Patton and Remy. They snuck through a window, Emile first and then Logan, immediately shooting six men in the head, who’d entered the room through the door just after the duo had. Emile got the three on the left, and Logan got the three on the right. 

They spent a few moments waiting in silence to make sure no one else was coming, before Logan stepped forward to examine the bodies. 

“You hit one of them in the eye.” He said, sheathing his gun and crouching down to look them over, turning their heads in his gloved hands. “But you got the other two exactly in the centre of the forehead. Well done, Viscount.” 

Emile straightened, eyes brightening at the praise, though that was almost difficult to see under the mask. “Thanks.” 

Logan stood up, dusting himself off. “You’ve been improving a lot, lately, all of you have.” 

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “Baron’s getting really good. He’s just  gotta stop trying to go off on his own.” 

“Ah, well. He’s just like Knight in that sense.” 

Emile smiled slightly, though it wasn’t visible under the mask. “He’s entering his angsty teenager phase. I don’t think Knight’s ever  gonna leave his.” 

Logan snorted. “Well, hopefully one day he will. At least they’re both relatively well-behaved, though Knight seems to think we don’t notice that he’s constantly sneaking out to see that  Picani boy.” 

“I’ll talk to him later.” 

There were a few seconds of silence, before Logan straightened up, hand on his gun. “I am proud of you, however. I do not wish your progress to be overlooked. You have come a long way and… as your father I am  indescribably proud. I do not think I say that to you enough.” 

Emile softened and squeezed his father’s free hand. “Thank you.” 

He watched Logan’s eyes crinkle into a smile behind his mask. “Now. Let’s finish this job.” 

*** 

Virgil and Thomas entered on the ground floor, too, taking out over a dozen men and women as they moved through each room. Blood stained their costumes and masks, though none got on their skin, and they left no fingerprints behind. It was all pretty easy, though there was one moment where Thomas was almost shot in the chest – causing Virgil’s anxiety to spike dramatically. 

Once they were to safety, in an empty room full of plenty of crates to crouch behind, Virgil grabbed his son’s wrist, pulling him closer to look him over, checking him for injuries. 

“You could have gotten yourself killed.” Virgil scolded, though he seemed relieved that Thomas was relatively uninjured – save for a few scrapes and bruises. “This was a bad idea. There’s too many risks. It’s one thing to let you guys kill a few unarmed bastards, but it’s another thing entirely to bring you guys here. It’s too dangerous, I have half a mind to just send you home right now.” 

Thomas put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “I’m okay, Pop.” He said softly. “We’re already here, we might as well finish the job. Neither of us are injured, and the others are all relying on us. We can’t go home now. Besides, we’re  gonna make a ton of money from this. It’s for my college fund, remember? And Knight’s and Viscount’s and Baron’s.” 

Virgil paused at that, thoughtful. “Okay, I guess...” He sighed. “But a college fund isn’t worth you getting yourselves killed. You can’t go to college if you’re dead.” 

“We’re not going to die. It’s not like any of us are going off on our own, Viscount’s with Duke, they’ll keep each other safe; Knight’s with King, who’ll keep him from going off on his own, and Baron’s with Prince, he’ll protect him.” He squeezed Virgil’s shoulder. “And I’ve got you, everyone’s  gonna be fine.” 

They stared at each other for another few moments, before Virgil sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. 

“I guess you’re right.” He admitted. “And we can’t exactly back out now.” Virgil glanced back at his son. “We were thinking of using some of the money to visit your dad’s family in Canada, anyway.” 

“Canada sounds nice, I can’t wait!” Thomas grinned, releasing Virgil’s shoulder and straightening up. “Now, let’s get back to killing some bad guys.” 

*** 

Roman yanked Dorian out of sight, pulling him around the corner before they could be spotted by the group of people at the end of the hallway. 

“Be careful.” He hissed. “We can’t let ourselves get caught. Stay behind me.” 

Dorian crossed his arms, and Roman could tell he was pouting, even under the mask. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Roman half-scolded, keeping his voice low. “I just want to protect you; I’ll always be here to protect you.” 

“But you don’t need to. I’m fine.” 

Roman sighed, running his gloved fingers through his hair. “Look, just- wait, Baron. Baron, what are you-  wait. What are you doing?” 

Dorian ducked under Roman’s arms, pulling out his gun and beginning to shoot at the nearby group of people. He managed to get four of the seven – hitting them either in the head or the heart – while a slightly reluctant Roman got another two before they could reach for their own guns. The seventh sprinted off, accidentally dropping his gun, and Dorian immediately started to give chase, sheathing his gun and pulling out a dagger (it had been borrowed without permission from Remy). 

They rounded a corner, as Roman rushed after them. There were a few nerve-wracking moments where he couldn’t see either his son or the victim, but when he finally spotted them again, he breathed a sigh of relief. Dorian was leaning against the wall, opposite a staircase, fiddling with the knife, and the victim lay dead on the floor, having been stabbed in the neck, his phone having fallen a few feet away, face-down on the floor. 

“You have got to stop trying to run off.” Roman huffed, and Dorian sighed loudly, exaggeratedly, crossing his arms. 

“I did what you wanted, though, right? I killed that guy.” 

Roman sighed, too, though it sounded slightly growl-like. “Be careful. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now, would we?” 

Dorian rolled his eyes, walking over to the staircase and beginning to make his way down the staircase. He only made it two steps before tripping over his own feet and slipping down the rest of the stairs, making a loud bang as he hit the bottom. Fortunately, they’d killed everyone nearby – and they’d assumed Logan, Virgil, Thomas and Emile had killed everyone on the ground floor by now – so there was no one to hear as Dorian crashed to the floor. 

“Now, what did I just say?” Roman exclaimed, rushing to the bottom of the stairs to check on his son. 

“Okay,” Dorian said, wincing as Roman helped him up. “I think you won that argument.” He leant against his father to keep his weight off of his left foot. 

Roman let out a short laugh. “Of course, I did. I’m always right.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s Father.” 

“What’s me?” Logan appeared around a corner, followed by a bouncing blood-stained Emile. They took one look at Dorian and rushed over. 

Emile looked his brother over worriedly. “Are you okay? What happened? You look hurt!” 

Dorian made a face. “I fell down the stairs and twisted my ankle, it’s no big deal.” 

“I told him to be careful!” Roman exclaimed. “Next time maybe you’ll listen to me.” 

Logan knelt down in front of them, pulling off  Dorian’s boot and looking over his foot. “It doesn’t appear broken, so you’re probably right. It’s just a sprain.” He put his son’s boot back on and stood back up. 

“It’s a good thing we already got everybody.” Emile said. “The others have found the jewellery; they’re grabbing as much as they can to take to the car.” 

“Ooh!” Roman’s eyes lit up. “Do you think we’ll be able to keep any of the jewellery? Maybe a bracelet or too? I like bracelets.” 

Logan sighed. “If we do that, we’ll get caught. They’ll see us with the stolen jewellery, put two and two together, and we’ll be caught. We can’t risk that.” 

“What would even happen if we got caught?” 

Logan and Roman exchanged a look, one that seemed to hold a million conversations in a single stare, and Dorian and Emile then exchanged a look about how weird that look had been. 

“Nothing good.” Logan said, putting his hand on Emile’s shoulder. “But, don’t worry, we aren’t going to get caught. We’ve made plenty of precautions. Now, come on, we need to get back to the others to help them finish the job. Perhaps we can watch a Disney movie when we get home, wouldn’t you guys like that?” 

“Yay, Disney!” Roman cheered. He passed Dorian to Emile, who wrapped his arm around his little brother’s waist and helped him walk in the direction of the rest of their family. Roman and Logan followed shortly behind. 

They reached the rest of their family in minutes – they were at the back of the warehouse, with a bunch of crates of jewellery, just beside a set of large double doors – and Patton and Virgil rushed over when they spotted the limping Dorian. 

“I knew this was a bad idea, are you hurt? What happened? Can you walk?” Virgil fussed, taking Dorian from Emile and looking him over. 

Logan put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “There’s no need to worry, it’s just a sprain, I already looked at it.” 

Remy glanced up. “How’d you manage that?” He had just been looking the Bloody Necklace, admiring its blood red gems. 

“I tripped down a flight of stairs.” Dorian said dryly, and Remy snorted as Patton and Virgil looked him over sympathetically. 

Emile, Roman and Logan joined Remy in stuffing the jewellery into sacks – one each – to take to the car. Hart and Brian would be collecting them to sell tomorrow; they’d already found a bunch of people willing to buy them for a lot of money. 

“We should hurry.” Logan said. “We don’t want to stick around for too long, it could be dangerous.” 

Roman waved him off, taking off his mask to swipe his hair out of his eyes. “It’ll be fine, Specs, we’ve killed everyone here, and these guys wouldn’t be keeping these here if there were cops coming over.” 

A few minutes of admiring the jewellery later, he held up an especially sparkly necklace. “Ooh, this looks pretty!” He turned to his husbands. “What do you think, would this suit me?” 

“Yep!” Patton chirped, as Virgil spoke in unison: 

“It’s not extra enough for you.” 

Roman stuck out his tongue, before stuffing the necklace into the sack. “Are you sure we can’t keep any of these? They’re exquisite.” He fished a pretty blue and silver bracelet out of a nearby crate, admiring it. “See, this one would look amazing on you, Pat.” 

He strode over to his husband, sliding it onto his wrist and grinning as Patton giggled. 

“See, even more beautiful than normal!” Roman grinned, leaning forward and lifting Patton’s mask to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

Most of the family just rolled their eyes or smiled fondly at their antics, but Remy sighed in exaggerated irritation. 

“Keep it in your pants, Pa.” 

“Language, Remy.” Virgil scolded, as Emile swatted at his brother’s shoulder. “Let them have their fun.” 

All of a sudden, the large double doors swung open, hitting the walls with a bang. Over a dozen cops burst in, guns pointed at the whole family. They had them surrounded within moments. One of them was Adam Lexinus from the double date not long ago, which was like an additional punch to the gut. 

“All of you, drop your weapons!” A dark-skinned female cop with red hair ordered. “Keep your hands where we can see them and take off your masks!” 

The family did as they were told – the kids only taking off their masks after their parents had. Almost all the cops froze for a moment in shock when they realised that half of the Royal Court were teenagers. 

“Steve...” The female cop muttered to her nearby partner. “They’re children.”


	10. Chapter Nine

They weren’t expecting kids. A group of middle-aged white guys is usually what one expects their serial killers to look like. 

Not kids. 

Molly swallowed, unsure if she should fire her gun or lower it. Even though it was pointed right at the chest of the youngest of them… 

“Molls,” Steve said slowly. “The guy  on the left …” 

Molly shifted her eyes and nearly cursed aloud. Roman Sanders, of all people. What, was Ted Cruz also the zodiac killer? 

She took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s how this is gonna work. You people are gonna step into our vehicles here without a fight, because, if there is a fight, someone’s gonna get shot and I’d honestly hate for it to be one of your little ones here.” 

It wasn’t a threat. Molly was genuinely scared of a bullet whizzing into the chest of the child she was pointing a gun at, though not enough to move it. They were a kid, sure, but the evidence seemed to suggest they were at least partially responsible for the dead bodies in the building and likely many more besides. They knew what the Royal Court was capable of, everyone knew. She didn’t want them to get hurt, but if that’s what it took then that’s what would be required of her. 

Her badge felt heavy on her belt.

She watched as the man in blue and silver traded a glance with Roman Sanders. Roman’s head moved just a little, but Molly couldn’t tell if it was a nod or shake. Regardless, the man in blue seemed to ignore it. 

He took a deep breath and  looked up at the cops , revealing an intelligent looking man with desperation in his piercing eyes. 

Adam choked somewhere to her left. “Logan? You too?” 

“Please,” The man – or, uh – Logan said. “Leave my children out of this, we- they were only doing what they were told.” 

“Father?” The smaller kid in pink questioned, his voice shook.

Logan ignored him. “We all were, please, please just don’t hurt them!” His pleas seemed to shock even the rest of the Royal Court.

“Logan, what are you talking about?” The man in a lighter blue, white and gold asked. 

“I’m telling the truth!” He exclaimed, tossing his mask to the side. “The bloody, _bloody_ truth of what Roman did to us, because if I say it then our children may not be tried!” 

The entire room stared at him and Molly watched carefully as Logan watched the men in light blue and purple. She watched as the one in purple’s eyes slid from Logan, to the taller child in pink, to Roman, and back again. He, too, looked desperate.

“He’s right, Pat,” The man in purple said,  dropping his own mask. “We- we have to come clean.” 

‘Pat’ swallowed. “What?” 

The man in purple  clenched his hands into fists  and nodded at Logan, ignoring the other’s question. 

Logan let out a shaky breath and turned back to Molly, Adam, and Steve. 

“This man,” He pointed at Roman, whose face was slowly twisting into a snarl. “My husband, Roman Sanders, is the serial killer known as the Prince. And I have evidence as well as testimony that he has manipulated myself and my family to become killers at his side, with numerous threats of pain or our own demise. He is not above holding a gun to a child’s head to get what he wants, and he’s proved that time and time again. He is a manipulator, an abuser, and a killer. I do not know if this counts as a confession, but the blame for every death we have caused lays squarely on his shoulders. My family and I have had no choice but to obey him.” 

Time itself seemed to hold its breath as Molly and her partners processed this. She glanced over at Adam, who looked as if someone had just told them they’d taken a match to the library of Alexandria. Steve didn’t look much better, and she doubted she did either. She liked to think she was an intelligent woman. But, with kids involved, and with the story that just tumbled out of Logan Sander’s mouth, everything just got a whole lot messier. 

“Okay,” She said slowly. “Why don’t you all get into our cars and we’ll sort this out down at the station?” 

“Absolutely not.” Roman Sanders growled; such a disgusted, disgusting look didn’t suit his pretty face.

He grabbed the nearest child before Molly could blink and held them close, a sword pointed at their throat. The boy in question trembled and Molly was pretty sure she saw tears in his eyes. He was dressed in black and silver, and she therefore recognised him as the Knight.

“No one come any closer,” Roman warned, snarling animalistically. “Or my blade goes through his throat.” 

Molly hesitated. They weren’t supposed to negotiate with people like this, but a child’s life was at stake! 

“Okay, okay,” She said cautiously, putting her gun down slowly. Her heart pounded in her chest. “We won’t, we’ll stay where we are, just let the kid go.” 

Roman laughed cruelly, practically cackling like a Disney villain. “And lose my protection? I think not, ma’am. Now, all of you’d better drop your guns and let me walk out before I count to ten or I swear to you, I will make good on my threat.” 

The kid he was holding choked out a sob. “P-Papa?” 

Roman shook him heartlessly, like a little ragdoll. “Shut up. Daddy’s negotiating with pigs right now.” 

Molly’s heart lurched and she felt her partners’ eyes on her. She glanced at them both and gave a small nod. Then, when Roman’s eyes darted away from hers, she mouthed ‘plan Harry’ at Steve. Recognition and  resignation flickered in equal measure behind his eyes and he nodded. 

“I’m waiting!” Roman s a ng, pressing his sword closer to the child’s neck and drawing a small line of blood. The boy whimpered. “Guns down. Now!” 

Adam and the other cops around them all lowered their weapons, moving to put them on the ground. Steve did so, as well, though a touch slower. And, as soon as Roman’s eyes were off of him, he whipped it forwards, shooting Sanders in the leg. 

Roman let out a cry and went down, releasing the child in his grasp as he did so. They both hit the ground with a thump.

The boy didn’t move, not even as the cops surged back to their guns around him. Not even as the rest of his group was arrested, with little protest. Not even as three other officers pinned and cuffed Roman Sanders. Only when Molly slapped a pair of cuffs on him, did he even seem to breathe. 

“Papa?” He said, voice breaking. “I thought…” 

Roman glared down at him, though there was something behind it that Molly hadn’t a hope of deciphering. “Keep quiet, Remy. Men like us  don’t cry; you know that.” 

Remy’s shoulders dropped in what must have been shock as he and Molly watched the rest of the royal court get shoved into cars. Molly sighed a little and rubbed his shoulders in sympathy. 

“Which one are you?” She asked in a futile attempt to ground him. She knew the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

He shuddered. “I’m… I’m the Knight. Remy Sanders.” 

Molly winced. The Knight had been around longer than any other member of the Court. No wonder the poor kid seemed shaken; he didn’t look any older than a teenager! He must have been under Roman’s control for at least four years, maybe even more.

“Don’t worry,” She said softly. “This whole thing will be over soon. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.” 

Remy flinched, before glaring  up at her venomously. 

“You don’t know a thing about him,” He snarled at her. “You don’t know a thing about us. About anything! He’s... he’s not like that! Papa would never hurt any of us! You have no idea what’s going on!” 

“And I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,” She said calmly, trying to soothe him. “But, right now, I need you to get into the squad car and come with me so you can.” 

“Fuck you.” Remy said, struggling against the handcuffs. “Fuck you and the entire police force. I hope you drop dead and I hope I get to watch. I’m- I’m  gonna slit your throat and watch the life drain out of you. Just you wait!” 

Molly couldn’t help but ache. Whatever Sanders had done to this kid had clearly messed him up good. He fought against her the whole way to the car and she was barely able to shove him in. Even when she shut the door, he beat against it, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed in what must have been a horrible mix of emotions.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. 

“This is  gonna take a lot of paperwork.” 

She turned, seeing her partners behind her. Adam looked stricken and Steve was staring into space, hands tucked into his jacket stiffly. They looked about as bad as she felt

“ Gonna take a while to sort this out,” Steve continued. 

Adam looked at her. “I know them, well… sort of. I had dinner with them once. They saved me from a date who was going to… they just seemed so nice, nothing like murderers. They were right under my nose, Moll. Why didn’t I see it?” 

She shrugged. “From the sound of it, Roman had everyone fooled. You couldn’t have known from just a single interaction.” 

“I should have…” 

He trailed off and Steve glanced at him. He slung an arm over Adam’s shoulder. 

“You made a mistake,” He said with bravado Molly knew he didn’t feel. “It happens. Look on the bright side, man! 

“We’re the cops who bagged the Prince.”


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably gonna be some inaccuracy in comparison to actual police interrogations and how the police work PLEASE ignore it

“So, Dorian. You’re thirteen, right?” 

Officer Molly Kingsley sat across from Dorian in the interrogation room, her hands clasped on the table as she watched him. He remained silent, chewing on his lip, his wrists handcuffed just a little too tightly in front of him. 

“You know, you don’t have to talk.” She said, switching tactics. “You have the right to remain silent, and all that, but it would be useful to get your side of the story.” 

He shifted in his chair, staring down at his hands. Dorian was visibly shaking and appeared to be only a few moments away from a breakdown. He was still dressed in his Royal Court costume – she could tell he was the Baron from the bee-like colour scheme – and looked a lot more like a kid playing dress-up than a nationally infamous serial killer. Which was unnerving, to say the least. He and his family had all been searched, and had had all their various weapons confiscated, but – if she’d based her assumptions on appearance alone – Dorian looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone dozens of ‘innocent’ people. 

She looked him over sympathetically. “How’s that ankle holding up? We can get someone to look at it, if you like.” 

Dorian’s hands tightened into fists; Molly noticed. 

“Was that what happened during the 911 call?” She asked. “The man who called us was named Alexander Poole-Smith. He mentioned that the Royal Court was breaking into a warehouse, gave the address, and then he died. The phone never hung up, and we managed to catch a conversation between you and Roman. From what we could hear, you tried to run off, Roman scolded you, and then you got hurt.” 

Dorian flinched. He was shaking, and there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

Molly’s voice softened. “Did Roman hurt you?” 

Dorian flinched again at the accusation. She took that as a yes, brow softening in sympathy, and continued. 

*** 

“Has he hurt you or your brothers before?” 

He swallowed the urge to defend his Papa. He was allowed to remain silent, so he would. Dorian didn’t want to ruin any defence his fathers made by contradicting anything. Besides, if he tried to speak, he’d likely just burst into tears, crying for his dads like a scared little boy, which he supposed he was right now. 

“Your father – Logan, I mean – he said that Roman’s been threatening you all, forcing you to kill for him, or he’d kill you, too.” She said. “Is this true?” 

Dorian tensed up. Molly jotted something down on her notepad. 

“Dorian, he can’t hurt you anymore.” She said softly. “He practically confessed before he was even arrested, he attacked your brother right in front of us, he’s not going to get away with this.” 

A tear dripped down his cheek. He made no move to wipe it away as he pulled his arms closer to his body – which was difficult with the handcuffs – trying to hug himself because none of his dads could. 

Molly leant over the table, putting her hand on his shoulder. He tensed up, so she moved back, placing her hands back on the table. She gave him a sympathetic look; he wished he could rip it off her face. He didn’t need her pity, he needed his family back. 

“The Royal Court began about two years ago, correct?” 

He gave the tiniest of nods, the first real response given throughout this whole interrogation. She jotted something down on her notepad. His vision was too blurred to read it. 

“And Roman began killing as the Prince roughly twelve years prior to that? Fourteen years total?” 

Dorian hesitated for a moment, but there was no point in lying about that. They’d been caught in the act, and it went along with Logan’s story. He nodded again. 

“And the Knight joined around four years ago?” 

He chose not to answer that one, staring down at the table. 

Molly sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms. “You know, if Logan’s story is true, and you were forced into it under the threat of being murdered, we can help you. We can protect you and your brothers, though we can’t say the same for your fathers.” 

Another tear dripped down his cheek, and it was soon joined by numerous heart-wrenching sobs that almost brought Molly to tears herself. This would be a long day. 

******* 

“So, Thomas, I just finished interrogating your dad and-” 

“Which one?” 

“Oh, uh- Logan.” Adam sat down at the table opposite Thomas. 

Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “What did... what did he say?” 

Adam gave him a small sympathetic smile. “You know I can’t tell you that, Thomas. Can’t have you changing your story to fit his, now, can we?” That last part sounded like an attempt at humour, but Thomas couldn’t find anything funny right now. Adam cleared his throat, continuing. “Now, how about you tell me, in your own words, what’s being going on. Tell me your story, from beginning to end, and I’ll interrupt when needed.” 

“From- from the _ beginning _beginning, or from when I got involved with... everything.” 

“Whatever’s relevant.” 

Thomas chewed his lip, pulling lightly against the handcuffs in thought. His eyes darted around the room, like cornered prey, before he finally seemed to settle down slightly, taking a deep breath, and opening his mouth to speak. 

“Um... well. Dorian and I are... are biological brothers. We were adopted together. Our birth mom, she wasn’t that great. She used to hurt him, scrubbing at his face while he screamed.” A tear dripped down Thomas’s cheek. “It wasn’t... it wasn’t good.” He took another deep, shaky breath. “Later, after we were adopted, I heard that she died, killed by the Prince.” He chuckled, a little morbidly. “I guess I should have realised, back then, that it wasn’t a coincidence. I was... I was stupid. I ignored all the signs, I should have- I should have realised.” 

Adam wrote a few sentences down on the notepad – summarising the story. 

“You’re not stupid, Thomas.” He reassured softly, reaching out to pat the teenager’s arm. “He had everyone fooled.” 

‘_ Everyone but us.’ _ Thomas thought but didn’t say. Instead, he just hummed in false agreement. The lies stung his tongue, like there were bees in his mouth, but they were necessary. He wondered if everything would ever go back to normal again. 

“Now, Thomas, you’re the Earl, right?” Adam continued. He gestured at Thomas’s outfit. “The colour scheme gives it away but… Conformation and all that, you know?” 

Thomas nodded. He cleared his throat. 

“We found out about two years ago.” Thomas said slowly, hoping this went along with his father’s story. “And- by we, I- I mean everyone but Remy. He found out about four years ago.” His voice cracked and a tear ran down his cheek – though not for the reason Adam thought. “He... he forced Remy to join him. I... he basically brainwashed him. If... if Remy keeps arguing, if he keeps defending Pa- I mean, Roman, just... just don’t take him seriously. He doesn’t mean it. He... he just loves him so much, even when- even when he hurts him.” Thomas looked down at his hands, more tears slipping down his cheeks. “Please... please protect him. He’s my little brother, he can’t get hurt, he just _ can’t _. None of them can. Please...” 

He didn’t even have to be that good of an actor to sell this. The tears were real, even if his reasons weren’t quite true – at least the part about wanting to protect his brothers was. 

Adam felt like he was going to cry, himself. This absolutely wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d began working on the Prince case. A group of serial killers, yes, but a family of broken teenagers and cruel, serial killer fathers? This wasn’t what anyone had thought this would be. 

“Your-” He cleared his throat changing the subject. “Your fathers: Virgil and Logan. They were police officers, too, right? They worked at a different precinct, but I’d heard of them. They burned all the files and evidence from the Prince case. It didn’t do much, but there was still a bunch of stuff that hadn’t been put online yet. At the time, it was considered an accident, though they were still fired, but now I’m assuming it wasn’t?” 

Thomas shook his head. “No- no... that was just after we found out. We- the whole family walked in on Roman and Remy dragging a body through the kitchen.” He cleared his throat, shifting and tugging slightly at the handcuffs. “He... he threatened to hurt us. He threatened Remy. We didn’t have a choice. We had to stay quiet. Pop and Father had to burn the evidence... or.... or he’d kill us.” 

He didn’t feel like an eighteen-year-old right now. He felt like a scared child, younger than Dorian looked, and all he wanted was to bury his face into one of his father’s shoulders and sob uncontrollably. 

And by the look on Adam’s face, this all added up. Thomas’s story matched up with Logan’s: so far, at least. This was painful – incredibly, uncontrollably painful – but it would all be over soon, hopefully. 

“Later... he forced us to join him – got us all costumes and weapons and aliases. I’ve got no idea where he got everything, never met with any of his contacts, I don’t even know if any of my other dads know.” Thomas bit his lip. “And that’s... that’s it, I guess. That’s my story.” 

Adam nodded slowly, scribbling more things down on his notepad. 

“Thank you, Thomas.” He said. “…I feel like it’s necessary to tell you that you may be treated a bit... differently from your brothers here, as you’re 18, legally an adult. However, as all of this began when you were sixteen, you shouldn’t have too much to worry about, if you’re telling the truth, of course.” 

******* 

“Officer Laurie, when can I see my brothers again?” 

Steve gave Emile a small, sympathetic smile. “Soon, I assure you,” He said. “I... probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but there’s a good chance you and your brothers will get to go free, for now, while all of this is investigated, of course.” 

Emile chewed his lip. “And my dads?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t give you a straight answer for that. However, I can assure you that you’ll never have to live with that abuser anymore. He can’t hurt any of you now.” 

Emile wanted desperately to argue, to defend his papa against those claims, those horrible accusations that made him sick to his stomach just thinking about them, but he knew it would just make matters worse for everyone else. He furrowed his brow, pulling his arms tighter around himself. He had to stick to the story – they only did it because they were following Roman’s orders, like worker bees obeying their queen, only a lot darker. He wondered if his brothers were following that same line of thinking – Remy in particular. 

“Just so you know,” Steve continued. “I’ll be interrogating your brother, Remy, after this.” 

The teenager held back a gulp – that didn’t sound good. 

Steve pulled out a notebook, flipping it open. “Okay, let’s start with something simple. What’s your alias?” 

Emile fiddled with his pink and gold sleeves, which was difficult due to the handcuffs. “I’m the Viscount,” He said eventually, practically mumbling. Steve could only just make out the words, and he jotted them down before continuing. 

“And how long have you been the Viscount?” 

Emile counted under his breath. “Two... two years, I think. I don’t remember the exact date it started. You’re gonna have to ask my dads for the specific details.” 

Steve nodded slowly. “And why, exactly, did you join?” 

At that, Emile hesitated for a moment. He looked down at his hands. The beats of silence gave him a bit more time to process things, and his vision blurred a little. He clumsily used his elbow to wipe at the tears, as his hands were handcuffed to the table, before taking a shaky breath and continuing. 

“He, um...” Emile refused to make eye contact with the officer as he spoke. “Papa forced me to – or, uh... forced us, I mean. It’s just like Father said, we, um... none of us wanted to do this, but he forced us to.” He took another shaky breath. “He’d... he’d hold up guns to our heads or swords to our necks and force us to help him, or he’d kill us. I- we- we were all just so afraid of him.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “We just did what he wanted.” A tear dripped down Emile’s cheek, and his voice cracked as he continued. “We hurt so many innocent people, and I.... and I just...” 

He trailed off with a sob. Of course, Emile had never actually hurt any innocent people. All of his victims had deserved it, and he saw them more as vigilantes – heroes, like the ones from comic books – than as serial killers. The tears were real, but for the wrong reasons. 

“It’s okay, Emile.” Steve said softly. “I believe you, I’m pretty sure we all do. It’s clear that Roman’s been manipulating and threatening you. This isn’t your fault, it’s his.” He passed Emile a tissue box, and the boy grabbed a handful of tissues, leaning forward to dab at his eyes. It was difficult, but he managed. 

“Are we... are we gonna go to jail?” Emile said in a small voice. 

Steve made a face at that. “I... I don’t know, Kid, I’m sorry. But, believe me when I say that Roman’s gonna get most of the punishment here.” He glanced down at his notepad, mumbling under his breath: “He’ll be lucky if he escapes getting the death penalty for this.” 

Emile let out another heart-wrenching sob. 

******* 

“So, Remy, are you-” 

“Fuck you.” 

Steve glanced up, a little startled at that. Remy glared venomously, like a wasp, zeroing in on its prey, looking like he was just a moment away from attacking the cop. Luckily, he was handcuffed the table, but Steve’s heart still broke for the kid. 

“Excuse me?” He responded. 

“Fuck. You.” Remy leant forward, practically spitting the words at him. “When I get out of these handcuffs, I’m gonna kill each and every one of you.” 

Steve sighed, looking down at his notepad. “Roman really did a number on you.” 

Remy snarled, baring his teeth like a predator. “Papa’s done nothing wrong. He would never hurt us, any of us. Don’t you _ dare _talk about him that way. Don’t you fucking dare, you fucking pig. I hate you so much, right now.” 

*** 

“He held a blade to your throat earlier.” Steve said calmly. “He even cut you. Why are you defending him?” 

“Because- because...” Remy looked lost for words for a moment. “Because he’s a good guy! He’s a good dad! He... he doesn’t deserve any of this! He- he just doesn’t!” 

Steve gave him a sympathetic look, which Remy viewed as pitying. “But he’s the Prince, isn’t he?” 

“I, uh...” Remy looked like he desperately wanted to argue, but he couldn’t find the words, and even he knew that arguing that would be pointless. 

“And was your father right?” Steve continued. “Did you want to join Roman? Did you want to become the Knight? Did you want to kill people? Or did he force you to?” 

Remy didn’t seem to know what to say there either. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking a lot more like just a confused, desperate teenager than anything else. However, his expression quickly soured again, and he scowled back at Steve. 

“Fuck you.” He growled, deciding not to answer the question. Steve took that as him not wanting to admit what Roman had been doing to them. 

*** 

“When I break out of these handcuffs, I’m gonna take your other leg.” 

Steve shifted in his chair. Usually, he’d get offended and insecure when someone pointed out his leg, but Remy was clearly in a lot of pain right now, so he decided to let it slide. 

“Remy, is it true you’ve been the Knight for over four years now?” 

The teenager refused to answer that question, just like the last twelve. 

“Has Roman been manipulating you for that long? Has he been hurting you? How did you become the Knight? When exactly did you join him?” 

Remy also refused to answer those questions, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. 

“How many people have you killed?” Steve continued, hoping at least one of these questions would stick and get answered. “How many of those people would you say Roman’s actually responsible for?” 

Remy’s glare strengthened. If looks could kill, Remy would have killed Steve more times than the Prince’s suspected body count (which was almost impressively high). 

“Fuck. You.” He repeated, emphasising each word. “I’m not telling you shit.” 

*** 

After three hours, Steve sighed. “Remy, I need you to be honest with me.” He gave the teenager a serious look. “If your family is indeed lying, and you all chose to commit these... atrocities, then the consequences will be severe, for all of you. If that’s the case, we will find out, trust me.” He paused for a moment, taking in Remy’s unreadable expression. “However, if Roman has been abusing and manipulating you all and forcing you to help him kill people, we will help you all as much as possible. You need to tell me the truth here, for the sake of your whole family.” 

Remy looked down, biting his lip. His shoulders were shaking, and he no longer looked like the predatory serial killer that was threatening to kill him only moments earlier. He looked like a scared teenager. 

“I... I...” Remy stumbled over his words. He looked to be on the verge of a breakdown. “I don’t know... I- I just, I don’t know...” A single tear dripped down his cheek. 

Steve’s expression softened. “That’s okay, kid. We’ll... we’ll figure it out.” 

And, with that, the number of sobbing Sanders kids was brought up to four out of four, and the number of confused, conflicted cops was brought up to literally all of them. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore any inaccuracies compared to what actual police interrogations and stuff are like. This is just fanfiction.

“I guess it seems prudent to interview you first,”  Adam  said, sitting down at the table across from Logan Sanders, folder open in front of h im . “So... I’ll start simple. Did you know Roman was the Prince when you married him?”

Logan snorted. “If I had known that I would not have married him. I was once a man of the law myself. It was not until... I believe about two years ago, that he  revealed his true nature to us.”

Adam  nodded and made a note of that. “Could you describe how that played out for me?”

Logan hesitated, taking a deep breath. “He... He and Remy were taking a body through our kitchen. I never knew the reason why, but , after we all discovered them, there was an argument. A rather loud one. I- afterwards he threatened the twins, Remy especially, and forced Virgil and I to bury the body. I’d rather not go into specifics if I can help it , but... it was well and truly awful. And after that night he began... recruiting us, in a sense. One by one he threatened us, the children, the children to get at us, until all of us were  helping him, sometimes even  killing for him.”

Logan looked up from his hands, looking at Adam with desperation. “I- please. I’m a father. I never- I never wanted to kill anyone, I just wanted my kids to be safe. I never-  _ never _ \- wanted anyone to get hurt but he held a gun to the head of my children and I couldn’t- all I could do was collect evidence and hope that one day he’d get caught. I used to do this, I know what can be used so, whenever I could I would record him or the children- I have one of Dorian and Thomas discussing him. Please, you have to believe me! I just wanted to keep my children safe! They... we didn’t let the kids hurt anyone, if we could help it. Patton, Virgil and I did what we could to keep their hands clean. ”

Tears were starting to fall down  Logan’s face now and it pulled at  Adam’s  heartstrings.  He  wanted to believe him, and the evidence did stack up in his favour…

“We’ll do what we can, sir.” Adam decided. “Is there anything else you can tell us that would speed things along?”

Logan hesitated. “...I thought he was a good man once. But I wouldn’t be here now if that was true.”

“I know, sir.” Adam said, feeling like his heart was getting squeezed. “I know. But if there’s anything else you can tell me I need to know it.”

Logan paused again, seeming to think. “...The body. The one that they dragged through the kitchen? I- I know where we buried it. It haunts me, knowing where it is. I know it doesn’t prove anything I’m saying but I have other things to back that up. Recordings and such. But the body... maybe it’ll prove I’m not lying?”

Adam bit his lip, thinking. “...Tell me where it is and I’ll see, sir.”

Logan gave him the location and the room fell into silence while Adam wrote it down.

“Can you-” Logan cut himself off, but Adam gestured for him to continue. “...I know you can’t promise me anything. But...  a ll I want is for my kids to be safe. And they won’t be if that m-monster is roaming the streets.”

Boy...  i f his heartstrings were pulled before, now it felt like Logan had reached into his chest and physically yanked them.

“We’ll do our best, Mister Sanders.”

*****

“It’s Pat, right?” Molly asked.

The man in the chair before her squirmed a little, tugging at the cuffs on his hands. He gave her a tight smile that barely qualified as anything but polite.

“Patton, actually , " He corrected softly. “Only my husbands call me Pat.”

“Oh , sorry , ” Molly said, writing that onto her notepad. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m not offended , ” Patton said. “...Not at that anyway.”

Molly quirked a lip upwards. “Not a fan of what we’re calling your husband, huh?”

Patton shrugged. “Would you enjoy it? People calling the man you married an abuser?”

“Not if it was true , ” Molly said. “...Although I guess abuse can play with your mind funny, so actually, I probably would mind even if it was true.”

Patton frowned. “I suppose that’s true...”

“Would you say you’ve been abused , Patton?” 

He looked at her in  shock. “I... That’s a little...  _ extreme _ ! I’ve never- he hasn’t hit me or-”

“There’s more to abuse than  just  physical , ” Molly said simply. “The way it’s all building up it seems as though your husband Roman was emotionally manipulative and often threatened harm towards you and you r children. Do you have anything to refute these claims ? ”

Patton gaped at her, open-mouthed. He said nothing, only blinking.

She continued. “I know your other two husbands were cops, and it says here that you were the secretary at their precinct before you adopted, so you probably know how this works. If it’s anything less than a unanimous report , everything gets a whole lot messier  ‘ til we find out the truth. If we go that route, I don’t know what will happen, honestly. But the way it’s looking... I can’t guarantee anything but your kids might be able to go free , for now – w ith conditions, of course.”

Patton stared at her for what felt like a lifetime. She was half tempted to squirm under the gaze but she held fast. From what she’d read about him , this was the right move to make in order to get the truth. She just had to stick to it. 

Eventually , his gaze dropped to his hands. Molly held her breath, daring the silence to grow louder.

“...I married a good man,” He said, voice small and quiet. Desperate. “The man you saw today... that was not that man. I- if I’d known how it all would work  out I might have played my cards differently but- the one thing I won’t regret is adopting my kids. We gave them a loving home even if...  e ven if it didn’t last.”

He looked up at her, tears in his eyes. “Did you know he taught Thomas to ride a bike? We caught him trying to ride one on his own but...  R oman just took him aside and explained how it was done. And when Thomas got back on , he- he fell and Thomas skinned his knee and he looked so scared... But I kissed it and gave him a bandage with a Disney princess on it and promised that he’d be okay , t hat I’d watch out for him and that nothing would hurt him while I was around.” 

The tears fell, trickling down Patton’s cheeks like small silver rivers composed of human sorrow. “I’m a horrible father.” He said hoarsely. “The things I’ve exposed them to- the things I’ve let happen-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Patton.” Molly said sympath et ically, reaching out to put her hand over his. “You couldn’t have known who he was or what he was going to do.”

Patton sobbed. “I should have. I  _ should  _ have! I should have seen the  signs , I should have protected my kids! Who’s going to protect them now?”

Molly pulled away, glancing over the files. “It says here you have a cousin in town?”

Patton nodded, looking a little confused at the change in topic. “Um- yeah? H-Hart and his husband Brian. But what has that got to do with anything? They don’t know about any of this, they’re innocent. ”

“Well,” Molly shrugged. “Best case scenario , your children would be placed under their care. Assuming they’re innocent enough-”

“They didn’t do anything!” Patton interrupts quickly. “Or at least nothing they could help. We did most of the killing , the kids just- they were mostly there to use against us! They helped , sure,  they didn’t have a choice,  but , if we could help  it , they didn’t kill anyone.”

“We couldn’t always help it,” He  then  admitted in a small voice. “And I know poor Remy’s hands are absolutely soaked in blood... but , when we could help it, we kept them out of that.” Molly watched as he swallowed. “I just... I want to give them their best shot, you know? No loving father wants his kids in the environment mine have been in. And certainly, don’t want them in here.”

He gestured around. He probably meant jail even though this was just the police station but Molly wasn’t about to point that out. Besides, it’d be a rather backwards family to want their kids on this side of the station anyways. 

“I can’t promise you anything,” She said simply, wishing that she could. “But , honestly? I don’t want your kids to go to jail either. Most of them seem nice enough. In another life, I think all of us could have really gotten along. I don’t want to put them behind bars."

A sob ripped out of Patton. Molly passed some tissues to him and sighed. Things were all becoming clearer. But at what cost?

*********

Steve sat across from Virgil Sanders, who was doing little more than staring at him like he was an unsavory piece of meat. Steve sighed and tried for a smile. 

“So,” He said. “I’ve gotten a lot of opinions on what went down with all this. Both the ill-fated heist and the last three years or so. Care to give me another one?”

Virgil’s gaze shifted to his cuffed hands. Steve sighed.  Apparently, this was the parent Dorian took after... 

“Look , Mr. Sanders,” Steve tried. “Even if you don’t talk, we’ve got a lot of compelling evidence. We don’t want to lock all of you up, but if that’s how things go that’s how things go. You were a cop once, right? So, you know how it goes. I’d even be willing to talk about making a deal with you for the right information. Probably not immunity but-”

“What about for my kids?” 

Steve blinked, not entirely sure if he imagined  Virgil’s voice or not. 

Virgil cleared his throat. “My kids. If I tell you what happened will you... can I get protection for them?” 

Steve thought for a moment. “I can’t promise anything yet. I’ll have to talk to the guys in charge. But I can promise I’ll try.”

Virgil lets out a deep breath and nods. “...I’ll talk. But I want my kids safe, okay? If- if we go through everything we’ve gone through and they aren’t even safe then what’s the point of it all?”

“I see,” Steve offered his most sympathetic nod. “And what is it exactly you’ve gone through?”

Virgil smirked and shook his head. “Nah, bro. I’m not saying another word until I’ve got written proof that my kids are protected.”

Steve stared at him for a moment before chuckling a little. He moved to pick up his files and gave Virgil a wry smile. 

“Well played, Mr. Sanders. I’ll do my best.”

*******

Out of all the interviews he’d done so far, Adam knew this was going to be his least favorite. Either he was walking into a room holding a man so twisted he’d manipulated his entire family into murder and likely only had said family for cover and pleasure anyway, or he was walking into a room with a charming man who invented all this just to keep his family who he loves very much safe.  Neither were ideal, and e ither way the guy was a serial killer with a really high body count. 

He swallowed. “You sure Molly can’t handle this one?”

“She’s busy with another interview,” The Chief told him. “And Steve’s trying to see if we  can let the kids go home, for now, while we investigate everything . So, it’s either you or Herbert.”

Adam wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. Okay, okay, fine. But I’m not  gonna enjoy it. And if I die in there tell Molly she can have my encyclopaedias.”

He step ped into the dimly lit room, shutting the door behind him before turning around. 

Roman Sanders sat there, examining his fingernails as if this was nothing more than a mundane waste of his time, little more than a trip to the DMV. Adam took a deep breath and sat across from him. Roman regarded him coldly before his face split into a polite, charming smile. It looked rather fake, as if it had been painted on.

“Hello.” 

“Hi.”

“Come here often?”

“Well , I work here so...”

Roman chuckled. “Right ,  of course. You know I actually met my husbands in an interview rather like this one.” He looked the detective up and down.

Adam paused. “Sir , this is an interrogation.”

Roman waved a hand. “Right, right. Well , obviously, it wasn’t one for murder , but I was a witness for some robbery or another. They were  just  so handsome I just couldn’t help  myself , y ou know?”

“Was this before or after they were assigned to the Prince case?”

Roman’s eyes hardened, though his charming smile didn’t falter. “...Before.”

Adam nodded. “I actually know the interrogation you’re talking about. We looked it up. It wasn’t too long after the murders in the Carlyle building , w hich is widely believed to be the first attack of the Prince.”

Roman’s face twitched a little. “Really? How interesting.”

“It doesn’t look good for you, you know,” Adam mused, looking over the files in his folder. “You were caught in a building full of bodies, in costume, with a bloody sword hanging from your scabbard. If you’re not the Prince , you’re a very clever copycat.”

Roman frowned. “Are you expecting a confession?”

“I don’t really need one, honestly.” Adam said, setting the case files aside. “We’ve got you dead to rights , you were caught in the act . It’s just a matter of how much you’re guilty of that’s up for debate.”

Roman laughed,  his  charming smile returning. “Please! The Prince alone isn’t responsible for that many kills.  Maybe fifty, max .”

It was unnerving that he didn’t consider that to be a lot. “Maybe,” Adam admitted. “Unless said Prince was manipulating every other member of the Royal Court into killing for him. Then you’d be guilty of practically twice as many deaths, at the very least, as well as child abuse, spousal abuse, and child endangerment. I don’t think I have to tell you how badly that’s gonna hurt your image in the papers.”

To his credit, Roman only flinched a little before leaning closer to Adam. “And what’s your proof of that, hm? Their word against mine?”

Adam faltered and Roman laughed, a cruel, cold laugh with its mirth derived from the misery of others.  It was comparable to that of a Disney Villain’s.

“You don’t have anything to really prove it, then.” Roman said victoriously. “Besides, I know what they’re doing. They’re hoping to pin all the blame on me so that they can get away scot free. Typical Patton, concocting a ploy like this. I ought to put it in my next book, what do you think? Think that’ll sell?”

“What makes you think it was Patton’s idea?” Adam asked, ignoring the book sales question.

Roman shrugged. “He’s the real brains of the whole thing, you know. We don’t just call him the King for  funsies , he’s the one really in charge.”

“Really?” Adam said,  writing that down , though he didn’t buy it . “And why him?”

Roman rolled his eyes and shrugged again. “He’s just got a knack for it, I guess. The rest of us are just tools for him to point.”

Adam hummed. “Right.  So, I suppose you wouldn’t be surprised to hear he said the same about you?” 

“Not at all.” Roman sniffed. 

“But , i f that’s the case... why was Logan the first to say something?” 

Roman faltered for a moment. “I- Clearly he’d been told to do so ahead of  time .”

“ Mhm ,” Adam said. “But then, what about the kids?  Surely , they’d be in on  it, too, right?”

Roman scoffed. “Of course! All of them except Remy. He’s far too clever to fall into Patton’s traps. I doubt he’ll go along with it. ”

“Right. Mister Sanders, you married three men, correct?”

Roman blinked at the shift in gears. “Er- yes?”

“And then you later adopted four children?”

“Well , yes , we- what does this have to do with it?”

“Well , if I was a man who married three other men and then adopted, it would only be logical to have our kid or kids call us by different names in order to  avo i d the endless stream of ‘ask your father.’ Right?”

Roman nodded, still looking a little confused.

“You guys did that with your kids, correct?”

Another nod.

“Would you list what the kids call each of you, for me?”

Roman wet his lips. “They call Logan  ‘ Father ’ , because he likes to be dignified. They call Patton  ‘ Dad ’ , since that was his childhood dream or whatever. They call Virgil  ‘ Pop ’ because Thomas wanted to make Dr. Suess jokes. And they call me  ‘ Papa ’ because of my Hispanic roots.”

Adam nodded, jotting all that down. “And they don’t mix those up?”

Roman shook his head. “ O nly as often as anyone with multiple children would call one of them by the wrong name. Which I’ve admittedly done a few times myself.” He looked almost thoughtful for a few moments, before his expression returned to the smug coldness.

Adam smiled at him. “So, when your children refer to being scared of their ‘Papa’ injuring them, there is only a slim possibility they’re referring to Patton instead of you?”

The color drained out of Roman’s face, the smug expression melting along with it.  He almost looked sick at the thought of that.  Adam grinned and rose, taking his case files with him. 

“No further questions at the moment. Why don’t you sit here and come up with a better story while you wait?”

********

“You ready?” Steve asked. 

Molly and Adam shook their heads. 

“I think it’ll be a long time before I’m actually ready. But we have to listen to it. It’s the most recent,  apparently , we can listen to the others later. ” Molly said softly.

They stared at the phone in the middle of the table they were sitting at. The play button stared back at them like a coiled snake. It may not be  venomous ... but once they reached out and pressed it, it was going to hurt. 

Molly took a deep breath and cursed under it before reaching out. Neither of her partners stopped her, so she pressed play.

Thomas’ voice crackled through the speaker, making her wince a little. 

“Dee,” Thomas’ voice said softly , obviously talking to Dorian . “It’s not your fault, it’s not either of our faults. We... we’re not... he’s  _ making  _ us do these things. If- if we don’t kill for him, he’ll torture and kill us himself!”

The Dorian on the recording choked back a sob. “But... but... I don’t  _ want  _ to kill people , ” He whimpered. “Yesterday he made me stab that guy... I had to watch as he bled out, begging for mercy. I know that Father said it wasn’t my fault, but...”

“It’s not your fault , ” Thomas’ voice said. 

There was a pause before Dorian started speaking again, voice a little timid. “Is it bad that I still care about him? I mean... most of the time, when we’re not actually- you know- doing the murdering, he’s just so nice! And I just... I don’t know...”

“I feel that way, too, sometimes.”

The recording came to a stop and Molly let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. 

“These poor kids,” She said mournfully. 

******

It was just about noon when they finally called it quits. Steve was in the break room giving his prosthetic a break, Adam stretched so hard that he was pretty sure he heard every bone in his back pop. And Molly? Molly had the fun  _ fun  _ job of handing off the Sanders kids.  They’d decided to let them stay with Patton’s cousins for the time being, under a sort of house arrest, while the investigation continued.

She sighed and tried for a smile as the solemn man approached her desk – he had a bag of spare clothes over his shoulder, so the boys could change and the costumes could be taken in as evidence . She rose and shook his hand. 

“M ister Hart Sanders , right?”  He  nodded. “I’m Detective Molly Kingsley. I wish we could meet under better circumstances.”

“Is everything okay?” Hart asked.

She hesitated. “Dorian has a sprained ankle and Roman got shot in the leg , but both of them have received medical attention.”

The man swallowed hard. “Oh , goodness...”

“It’s... It’s a messy situation here, I won’t fool you.” Molly said gently, gesturing for them to sit. “I’m sure you were informed of some of it over the phone , but the long and short of it is that the parents will  remain in custody while we work on out case and the children will be placed under house arrest under your care , most likely until the trial . I understand that you a nd your husband a re registered foster parents as well as being next of kin?”

Hart  nodded. “Yes , that... that’s right. We just adopted.”

“Good. Good, that’ll make things go smoother.” She said. “I’ll need you to sign a few things but then you can take the kids and be on your way. I may have an escort follow you but it’s just a necessary precaution, I promise.”

“Ma’am?”  He asked, voice thick. “I know... I know you said they’d gotten medical attention but beyond that... are they okay? Mentally?”

Molly hesitated again. “...I don’t know them well enough to say.  But , I wouldn’t place my money on a good mental health state for any of them. Roman seems to have put them through the ringer already and we’ve been interrogating them practically non-stop, which I’m sure you can imagine wears a person out. I won’t sugarcoat it,  sir, it’s pretty awful what these kids have been through .”

His face fell so hard Molly swore she heard it crack onto the floor. “Oh, those poor babies...”

She gave them a tired smile. “Just a few forms and they’ll be safely in your care, sir. I wish you all the best, truly.”

“What about my cousin?”  Hart asked. “Patton? And Virgil and Logan are they just... are they going to be behind bars for forever?”

Molly chewed on her lip for a minute. “There’ll be a trial to decide the official sentences, but they will be serving time, yes.”

Hart let out a sob, wrapping his arms around himself and staring down at the floor.

Molly sighed softly. There was a long road ahead for everyone.


	13. Chapter Twelve

The car ride to Hart and Brian’s home was filled with silence, a tense, painful silence that was mostly only interrupted by the quiet sniffles of Dorian and Emile. Remy was sat in the front, beside Hart, and his brothers were sat at the back, Thomas in the middle, stoically holding on to the other two. Brian was still at home, looking after the twins, who were only three and obviously had no idea what was going on at the moment.

Remy stared at the road ahead of them, his arms crossed. He was shaking, but if anyone had pointed that out to him, he’d have snapped at them, so it was a good thing they didn’t. He didn’t have his sunglasses with him, so there was no way to hide his red eyes or mask his expression.

When they were  about halfway to  Hart and Brian’s house, Remy finally spoke up.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Hart asked.

“About father’s plan,” Remy said, glancing emotionlessly at his uncle.

Hart’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “No,” He said. “But... I  kinda figured they’d do something like this. It makes sense.”

Dorian sniffled again behind them, shuffling even closer to Thomas. Remy glared down at his lap.

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” Remy mumbled,  hands clenching into fists. Hart sighed, eyes on the road, choosing not to comment.

The rest of the car ride was filled with an even tenser silence than before, and  it was afternoon by the time they reached Hart and Brian’s house. The kids had been up all night, due to the heist and the subsequent arrest, and none of them wanted to fall asleep, though Dorian was yawning between sniffles and blinking sleepily as he curled up against Thomas’s side.

The front door opened as Hart pulled into the driveway. Brian ushered them inside quickly, wary of the fact that the arrest would be all over the news soon. He held Peter on his hip – the three-year-old absentmindedly chewing on his own fist – and Missy was at his feet, clutching his leg. They were oblivious to what was going on, but weren’t quite as oblivious to their fathers’ moods as they would have liked. 

Thomas and Dorian collapsed onto the couch as soon as they entered the living room, Thomas pulling his younger brother into his lap to hold him closer. Missy then waddled up to them, tugging on Thomas’s leg until he let her up too. Brian handed Peter to Emile, who moved to sit on the couch beside his brothers, and the adults went into the other room to discuss what to do. Usually, the teenagers would all want to help out with that, but, right now, they were exhausted.

Despite that, Remy continued to pace the room, hands in fists as he mumbled under his breath. His twin watched him, chewing on his thumb as he bounced Peter in his lap.

It was in moments like these when the teenagers really felt their  young  age, and longed for their dads more than anything else.

Thomas wondered what evidence Father had collected that made the police so convinced Papa was the  villain ... 

*** **

_ Logan stepped into his bedroom, followed closely by his husband, Roman. Their other two husbands were downstairs, making dinner, and the children were in the living room, playing video games, so they likely wouldn’t be disturbed.  _

_ This was during the early days of the Royal Court, when their family dynamic had only just returned to normal. _

_ Roman shut the door behind them, and a tense silence settled over the pair for a few moments, before he finally looked back up and made eye contact with Logan. _

_ “So,” Roman said awkwardly. “Where should we start?” _

_ “You’re the actor. This is your area of expertise.” _

_ Roman didn’t answer. Logan sighed. _

_ “Perhaps a text message conversation would be a good start.” Logan took out his phone, and Roman reluctantly followed. _

**LOGAN:**   
I can’t believe you.

**ROMAN:**   
What?

**LOGAN:**   
Was threatening us into silence not enough? Must you force us to participate in your crimes, as well?

I can just about bear your threats to my safety, but leave the children alone. They don’t deserve any of this.

_ Roman sat down on the edge of the bed, creasing the blanket, and Logan moved to sit beside him, pressing his arm against his husband’s in an attempt at comfort. They exchanged no words. _

**ROMAN:**   
And what are you going to do about it?

_ They waited a whole minute – full of deafening silence and Roman finally took Logan’s hand and squeezed it supportively. It made typing harder, but it was necessarily. _

**ROMAN:**   
That’s what I thought.

Don’t bring this up again.

***

_ Logan shut and locked the bathroom door behind him. He’d just come back from a murder as the Duke, and it had gone fairly well. However, he had gotten a bit bruised in the escape, which was what he was in the bathroom for. _

_ He rolled up the bottom of his shirt, examining the bruise on his hip. He pulled out his phone, and took a  _ _ few  _ _ picture _ _ s _ _ of it, to add to his evidence collection. After he was done, he flattened his shirt again, pocketing his phone and running his fingers through his hair. _

_ He flushed the toilet, to mask the real reason why he’d entered the bathroom, washed his hands and then left the bathroom. He passed Roman down the hallway, and they exchanged a solemn look. _

_ Logan tried not to think too hard about what they were keeping from the rest of their family. _

***

_ Logan and Roman sat down on one couch, exchanging a short look and a nod. The former placed a book about astronomy into his lap, but pulled out his phone and began tapping at it. Roman took out his notebook, and began to scribble enthusiastically across one of the open pages. Thomas and Dorian were on the other couch, playing a card game and talking quietly. _

_ After a few more minutes of this, Roman paused in his writing, reading over his words with a creased brow. He then began to sigh loudly and dramatically, doing so multiple times until his family finally took notice. Logan glanced up at Roman, giving him a look, before tapping at his phone a few more times, secretly turning on the recording app, and placing it face-down on the coffee table, beside Thomas and  _ _ Dorian’s _ _ card game. _

_ “Roman, just tell us what is wrong, your sighing is getting tedious.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses and giving his husband a pointed look. They’d done this a couple times in the past, with different members of their family, so, whilst Logan wasn’t exactly the best actor, he was quite used to this. _

_ “I’m glad you asked!” Roman exclaimed, sitting up straighter and brandishing his notebook. “I’m trying to write some dialogue for my next murder novel, but I just can’t tell if it flows well! I know I’m a genius when it comes to stuff like this, but writing’s just so hard! I’m stumped!” _

_ Logan hummed in thought. “Well, I could look over it, too, if you so desire.” _

_ “I appreciate the thought, my love.” Roman gave him a grateful smile. “But your talents lie in detecting grammatically errors, not in character’s emotions.” He paused for a moment, for emphasis, before his eyes lit up, and he turned to his two sons. “Thomas, Dorian, my amazing, beautiful, incredibly talented sons who I love very much…” _

_ They both turned to him, Thomas with one eyebrow raised and Dorian with a dry look on his face. _

_ “What do you want, Papa?” The 18-year-old asked, amused. _

_ Roman grinned. “Well, you both share my love of acting, do you not?” They both nodded. “And you both clearly inherited by skill for it, of course. So, could you, I don’t know… maybe act out part of this scene for me? The characters are sitting down, so you wouldn’t have to move around much, and it’s not too long, I swear!” _

_ Thomas blinked a few times in surprise, before reaching out and taking the notebook, placing it between himself and Dorian, so they could both read it. _

_ “Just from the top of this page-” Roman pointed to the second open page. “-to the end of what I’ve written so far.” _

_ Dorian snorted. “You named the girl ‘Dee’.” _

_ “Yup!” Roman chirped. “You can be her, if you like. The backstory’s that Dee and her father are being threatened by an old family friend into helping him kill all of his enemies, and Dee accidentally dragged her best friend, Josh, into it. This scene’s them talking about it.” _

_ Thomas and Dorian flicked through the pages of the section a few times, before the former cleared his throat and began to read. _

_ “Dee,” He read softly. “It’s not your fault, it’s not either of our faults. We… we’re not… he’s  _ _ making  _ _ us do these things. If- if we don’t kill for him, he’ll torture and kill us himself!” _

_ Dorian choked back a sob, and Roman’s grin widened with pride at his sons’ acting skills – they rivalled his own. Logan blinked a few times in  _ _ surprise _ _ at that, slightly taken aback by how genuine their acting seemed.  _

_ “But… but… I don’t  _ _ want  _ _ to kill people.” Dorian whimpered, again alarming his fathers at how realistic it sounded. “Yesterday, he made me stab that guy… I had to watch as he bled out, begging for mercy. I know that Father said it wasn’t my fault, but…” _

_ Thomas put one hand on Dorian’s shoulder – following the actions written in the notebook – using the other to turn the page. _

_ “It’s not your fault.” _

_ Dorian paused for a moment, eyes darting down to the page, before continuing. “Is it bad that I still care about him? I mean… most of the time, when we’re not actually- you know- doing the murdering, he’s just so nice! And I just… I don’t know…” _

_ “I feel that way, too, sometimes.” _

_ They stayed like that for a few more seconds, before both boys seemed to snap out of character in unison. _

_ “I think it’s good!” Thomas smiled, picking up the notebook and passing it back to Roman. “Maybe you should cut down on the description a bit, though, it  _ _ kinda _ _ decreases the emotional impact of the scene.” _

_ Roman hummed in thought, looking over his pages again, as Logan picked his phone back up, tapping at it a few more times _ _ \-  _ _ ending the recording _ _ - _ _ before pocketing it with a sigh. He’d cut out the beginning and the end later, leaving only the scripted conversation to add to their large  _

_ “Well, thanks for the feedback, kids!” _

_ Just as he finished saying that, Virgil came down the stairs, stepping into the living room, dressed in black and purple pyjamas with a golden crown in the centre of the shirt – Roman had gotten it for him. He paused as soon as he arrived, though, brow creasing when he spotted Dorian. _

_ “Wait, have you been crying?” _

*****

Logan was certainly crying now. He wished he had Roman’s hand to hold, Patton’s voice to gently reassure him, or Virgil’s arms around him. He wished he knew for certain that this was the right thing. That condemning his husband to save their sons was the right choice. That all the work and effort and feigned evidence wasn’t for naught. 

But all he had was hope. And hope had never felt so lonely...


	14. Chapter Thirteen

For once in his life, Emile wasn’t paying attention to the cartoons playing on TV. He was, instead curled up against Thomas’ side, absent-mindedly chewing on his lip, lost in thought. Dorian was half asleep at Thomas’s other side, and Remy was sat beside him, knees to his chest, talking quietly with Thomas. Missy and Peter were playing with stuffed toys in the centre of the room, and Hart and Brian were elsewhere , probably talking in hushed voices about what they were going to do with a houseful of teenagers.

The curtains were drawn, though it was about midday, to keep the neighbours from spying.

Thousands of thoughts and images danced across Emile’s mind – hardly any of them pleasant – and Thomas squeezed his shoulder supportively every so often. 

After about half an hour of this, Hart suddenly walked in. His expression was solemn, and he sat down on the other couch, silently picking up the remote and switching channels to the news. The woman on screen was halfway through her sentence when she appeared, but the brothers realised what was going on immediately.

_ “-were arrested on Saturday night.” _

Everyone tensed up. Dorian sat up, awake, clutching desperately at  Thomas’s arm.

_ “Now the Royal Court have been terrorising us for two years now, and the Prince has been doing so  _ _ since _ _ twelve years prior to that, but is there more to the story to that?” The news reported continued, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The police have given a select amount of information, though they claim the investigation is still ongoing. They even revealed to us the true identity of these monsters.” _

Emile let out a quiet whimper, which didn’t go unnoticed by the three-year-old twins on the carpet, and Thomas squeezed his shoulder gently, never taking his eyes off of the screen. 

_ “The infamous Prince is none other than the once beloved author, Roman Sanders.” A picture of Roman appeared on screen beside her. “The rest of the Royal Court are his family.”  _

Just as she finished saying this, Brian stepped in. He took one look at the screen, then at Hart and the four teenagers, and then turned to his son and daughter on the floor. He quietly ushered the toddlers out of the room, promising to colour with them in their room. A guilty look crossed Hart’s face as his husband glanced back at him, as if, in that brief moment, he’d forgotten that their children were still there.

_ “Roman Sanders has three husbands and four children – perfectly matching the number of killers in the Royal Court – though the seven of them tend to stay out of the public eye. Police claim that an overwhelming amount of evidence suggest that none of them had any choice in the matter, that Roman manipulated all of them into joining him once they’d all discovered his true identity, presumably sometime in the last four years, and threatened to harm or even kill their children if they didn’t comply.” _

Remy was shaking, a vicious scowl on his face as he glared at the screen, hands in tight fists. Dorian buried his face in Thomas’s shoulder, who ran his fingers through his brother’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. Emile glanced at Hart, who was chewing his lip with a pained expression. 

_ “The last thing the police revealed to us was which person used which alias. Roman Sanders was the Prince, of course. His son, Remy, who is 16-years-old, was the Knight. His husbands Patton, Logan and Virgil were the King, Duke and Overlord respectively. His 18-year-old son, Thomas, was the Earl. 16-year-old Emile Sanders was the Viscount, and 13-year-old Dorian Sanders was the Baron.” The woman cleared her throat, expression unreadable. “We will keep you all updated as this all progresses. I’m Sarah Smith, and this has been-” _

She was cut off as Hart switched off the TV. He looked over the teenagers sympathetically – Remy didn’t look like he appreciated it, but he didn’t say anything – before leaving the room again, likely to go find his husband and children. 

“...That’s that then.” Thomas said, voice strangled. “We... they...”

“They’re  gonna be  locked up for good .” Remy said shortly. “We’re on our own.”

Dorian sniffled, withdrawing from Thomas just enough for them to see his red-rimmed eyes. “W- we  don’t know for sure, yet, and we  aren’t alone. We have Uncle Hart. And Uncle Brian. We aren’t alone...”

“Please.” Remy huffed. “Our uncles have their hands full as it is. They’re only , like, ten years older than Thomas and just got their first kids. You think they know what’s  gonna be best for us? You think they know how to raise teenagers?”

“I think they’ll try.” Thomas retorted. “They’ll do their best, and that’s all we can ask of them!”

“Yeah right,” Remy laughed bitterly. “We let them parent us while our real dads rot in a cell! Oh-” He laughed  again, this time borderline hysterical. “All except for Papa!  _ Who’s  _ _ probably  _ _ gonna _ _ be  _ _ sitting on DEATH ROW _ _ soon _ _ ! _ ”

Emile let out a choked sob and he and Dorian both burrowed into Thomas’ shoulders. He wrapped his arms around the two of them as best he could, but his arms just... weren’t quite enough. He sighed a little and  almost  glared up at Remy. 

“That was uncalled for.” 

Remy growled. “It’s true.”

“Do you really think that’s what anyone needs to hear right now?”

“ Oh, because a couple pretty lies will make everything better?”

“I’m not saying that it will!” Thomas snapped. “But it’s not helping a single thing to sit there shouting about it! All that’s doing is making everyone feel worse!” 

Remy glared at him, seething. His mouth opened and closed rapidly, searching for some sort of word to express each and every one of the  cocktail of feelings inside his chest. Then he caught sight of a tear, running down Dorian’s cheek. ...And it all crumpled. 

He swallowed  hard. “I just...”

Thomas softened. “I know. I know... none of us are blaming you for these feelings, Remy.  But you can’t just yell and scream and expect things to get better. All that’s doing is making it worse.”

“I can’t just sit here,” Remy gasped. “I can’t just sit here and watch cartoons knowing that they- that he-”

“I know.” Thomas swallowed a little. “I... Trust me. I know. But we have to stick together. Fighting and yelling is just  gonna pull us apart. ...We’re the only family we’ve got now.”

Remy broke. Tears coursed down his face and he collapsed into Thomas, crashing into Emile a bit on his way down. Thomas could reach him, so Emile and Dorian reached around him instead, and Thomas whispered gently, as soothingly as he could. 

They stayed like that for a long time. Just a small, broken family, clinging to each other on a faded couch with all they had left. 

***

Sep and August stared in shock at the TV screen. The news reporter had just moved on to another story, but the couple had most certainly not moved on from it yet.

August reached out and squeezed his husband’s hand, and they exchanged a look of absolute horror: eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar.

“ Wh \- what-” Sep began, before cutting himself off and taking a deep, slightly shaky breath. 

“Hey, Toby!” August called out. “Can you come here, please?”

Their son entered the room, one hand in his pocket, looking rather casual until he noticed the look of his fathers’ faces. His brow creased, and he crossed his arms.

“What’s up?”


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) - Izzy

The first thought that appeared in Emile’s mind when he woke up was the date.

It was Friday, the day he and Toby had been planning on going on a date together,  _ finally _ , after years of pining after each other. 

Not that Toby would want to go on a date with him anymore, now that the arrest had hit the news and their crimes were broadcasted for all the world to see. Of course, it  _ had  _ been reported that Roman was the one at fault – threatening and manipulating his family into killing with him – but that only made it slightly better.

Emile pulled the blanket tighter, and Remy rolled over beside him, turning to face his brother and blinking sleepily.

“What’s... what’s up, bro,” Remy yawned. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night prior, but neither had any of t hem.

“It’s Friday,” Emile mumbled.

Remy didn’t seem to get it at first, his brow creased in thought, but then a look of realisation crossed his face.

“Oh .”

Remy reached out and took Emile’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I mean, we don’t know for sure what Toby thinks about all of this. We don’t have our phones, so it’s not like we’d know if he’d texted us.  ... Maybe he’s into murder?”

Emile snorted lightly, though it sounded a little shaky. “It’s not like we’re allowed to leave the house, anyway,” He whispered softly, speaking quietly so Thomas and Dorian – who were still asleep on the sofas – didn’t also wake up. 

Remy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re not supposed to kill people, either, it’s not like we ever listened to that.”

“Okay, fair,” Emile conceded. “But if we got caught trying to leave, it’d mess everything up. Besides, Toby’s not  gonna want to date me after all of this, so there’s no point in even talking about this.”

“But we don’t know for sure.”

Emile still looked unsure, chewing on his lip apprehensively. Remy then sighed, a little aggressively, squeezing his twin’s hand to get his attention.

“Emile,” He said seriously, making eye contact with his brother. “If I don’t focus on trying to get you and Toby together, despite everything else that’s going on, I’m going to end up killing somebody, and that’s just  gonna make this situation worse.”

Emile blinked a few times in surprise. “Oh, uh... okay, then. I guess there’s no harm in checking later to see if Toby’s where we said we’d meet up. But how am I supposed to sneak out?  There’s cops outside the house : they’d catch us.”

“Just leave that part to me.”

***

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Thomas asked, running his fingers through his hair and looking around anxiously. “If this goes wrong, it could mess everything up. Do we really wanna risk this?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Uh, duh. It’s for true love. We’ve been working too hard to bring Emile and Toby together to just give up now.”

“The murder thing’s probably turned him off.” Dorian said dryly. He hadn’t let go of  Thomas’s arm since he woke up, and hadn’t been talking much either.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Remy said. “I mean, didn’t he say a while back that the Prince saved his cousin? Plus, the media’s making it seem like the four of us are just innocent victims. Besides, he was like super in love with  Em , that can’t have just gone away already.”

Thomas and Dorian exchanged a look, before Thomas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, fine, what do you want us to do?”

Remy grinned. “That’s the spirit.” He glanced around, double checking that the three of them were alone, before continuing. “Okay, you two have to keep Uncle Hart and Uncle Brian distracted, at least until Emile’s out of the house. Do whatever you have to. I don’t know, start crying, or something, shouldn’t be too hard given the situation. My job is to help  Em leave through the back door. And- oh, speak of the devil.”

Emile entered the room just as he said that, in jeans, sneakers and a large oversized grey hoodie, borrowed from Hart, to hide Emile’s identity while he was out. Remy looked him over and nodded.

“Great, that works.” He turned back to Thomas and Dorian. “We’re  gonna sneak Emile out the back door. He’s  gonna sneak out into town, which will take about half an hour to walk to, and wait outside the coffee shop they arranged to meet at for at least 20 minutes, to wait for Toby, and, if Toby is there, he is to spend a maximum of one hour with him before returning so we only have to keep this going for two hours.” Remy smirked  and winked  at his twin. “No funny business, you two.”

“But Uncle Hart and Uncle Brian will definitely notice if you’re gone for two hours, Em,” Thomas pointed out.

Remy grinned mischievously at that. “Not if I pretend to be both of us at once. I’ll switch between wearing my leather jacket and Emile’s cardigan regularly, and hopefully our uncles will be too - like - distressed at our current situation to notice. Hopefully, they won’t notice that I won’t have any glasses, ‘cos apparently  Em needs them or something .”

“I think it would just make things worse if I got lost because I didn’t have my glasses.” Emile  responded  dryly.

Just as Remy was about to open his mouth to respond, Hart walked in, followed closely Missy and Peter. Remy turned to Thomas and Dorian, giving them a subtle pointed look.

“Hey, uh, Uncle Hart,” Thomas began. “Can we talk?”

Hart gave Thomas a soft, but exhausted, look. “Of course, kiddo, what’s up?”

Remy and Emile ignored the heartache at the word ‘kiddo’, slipping silently out of the room and moving towards the back of the house. They’d mastered the art of sneaking around due to their double lives; the only ones who’d notice when they snuck out of the house were their dads, but they weren’t here right now.

They opened the back door, and Emile put his hood up.

“Good luck,” Remy whispered, and Emile gave him a small smile and a nod in response. He then turned and began to walk away, but Remy stopped him. “Here,” Remy removed his sunglasses and handed them to his brother. “For luck. And to hide your face, too, I guess.”

Emile hesitated for a moment, before putting them on over his normal glasses. He reached out and squeezed his brother’s hand, before turning and leaving. Remy watched him go for a few seconds, before he shut the door. 

Remy leant back against the door, tipping his head back slightly and closing his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed a little shakily. He chewed his lip, thinking things over for a few moments, before straightening up and pushing himself away from the door with his foot, preparing for two hours of acting to help his brother, and hoping more than anything that Emile wasn’t about to get his heart broken.

***

Emile arrived at the meeting point ten minutes earlier than expected – he'd ran most of the way, worried about being late and missing his chance. He was sat on a bench outside the coffee shop, checking the watch he’d borrowed from Brian every few seconds, hunched over to hide his face from the public. His foot tapped against the ground as he chewed on his lip. Toby most likely wouldn’t recognise him like this, so he’d have to keep an eye out himself to make sure they didn’t miss each other.

If Toby was even coming at all.

Emile was too busy stressing out over the situation to notice when someone began to approach him, only looking up when they tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Toby said softly, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Emile stared up at him, mouth agape, for a few moments, before he jumped up.

“Toby, you’re actually here!” He then looked down at himself, a little confused. “You actually recognised me.”

Toby chuckled lightly. “It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, I’ll always recognise you.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Can we, uh... can we talk?”

“Oh- of course!” Emile blinked up at him. “Um, where should we-”

“I know a place.”

Toby hesitated for a moment, before holding out his hand. Emile took it immediately, and the taller boy squeezed his hand reassuringly. He then began to lead Emile through a maze of shops and cafés and crowds, until they came across a small, relatively clean alleyway, devoid of people. Emile recognised it as a place a lot of local teenagers came to make out without the watchful eyes of their parents. He figured that probably wasn’t why Toby had dragged him there, but he still blushed nonetheless.

Toby leant against the wall; Emile was still holding his hand, so he leant against the wall beside Toby, avoiding eye contact. There were a few seconds of silence, before Toby finally spoke up again.

“So, I saw the news.”

Emile gulped nervously.

“Is it true?” Toby asked softly, without judgement. “Are you guys... are you really the Royal Court?”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence.

“And- and did your-” Toby took a deep breath. “Did your pa- did Roman really force you to...” His voice cracked as he said Roman’s name, and he turned to look at Emile’s face.

Emile didn’t know how to answer that question, so he didn’t. Toby watched him, before sighing and running the fingers of his free hand through his hair.

“It- it doesn’t matter,” Toby said. “I still like you, Emile.”

Emile’s eyes widened.

“You- you do?”

“Yeah.” Toby smiled at him, but it was a little sad. “You’re a sweet person,  Em , whether or not your secret vigilantism was a choice or not.”

Emile stared back at him adoringly. “I really like you, too. Does... does this mean nothing changes between us?” He asked hopefully.

Toby’s expression saddened, and Emile’s heart dropped.

“I’m moving.”

“Wait, what?”

Someone walked past the alleyway, paying no attention to them, and the duo went silent as they waited for her to pass properly. Emile then turned back to Toby, shaking slightly.

“You’re moving?”

Toby looked devastated. “ My d ads d on’t exactly approve of all of  this, and everyone already knows I'm close to you and Rem. They think we need a fresh start, somewhere else, where no one associates us with a family of serial killers. It doesn’t matter to them whether or not you guys had a choice in the matter. We’re going to stay with my grandparents for a while, until we can move properly.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s happening first thing tomorrow.”

“But- but we can stay in touch, right? I don’t have my phone right now, but we could figure something out, use landlines and computers.”

“They’re making me delete all my social media and change my phone and phone number and email and everything else. They’re completely cutting me off,” Toby said. He squeezed Emile’s hand, to reassure the both of them. “I’m so ... so so  sorry, Em, I wish things didn’t have to be this way. They’ll realise I’m gone, soon, I can’t stay long.”

“I-” Emile’s heart shattered in his chest. “I’m never going to see you again?”

Toby’s face softened. “One day,” He whispered. “I promise we’ll see each other again.”

“I- I-” Emile started shaking slightly. 

Toby swallowed. “I know it doesn’t help anything but...” 

He pulled a small, round piece of metal out of his pocket and reached over, pinching the fabric of Emile’s borrowed hoodie to pin it in place. Emile looked down at it, fighting back another shiver of tears as he realized what it was. 

“I got that for you before everything... happened.” Toby explained. “I remembered that you liked Ruby and Sapphire and... well at first I wanted you to have something to remember our date by but now... just remember me?”

Emile sniffled and gently ran a finger over the button, the gems happy faces seeming  contradictory to his ripping heart. 

“As if I’d be able to forget you,” He whispered, voice choked. 

Toby  smiled, sad and soft , reaching out and gently cupping his cheek with his free hand. “ Em ...” He said. “Can I kiss you?”

Emile froze for a moment, before nodding, and then Toby kissed him.

The kiss was short, but sweet, and Toby’s lips were soft, tasting faintly of chocolate. It was Emile’s first kiss, and Toby’s first romantic kiss.  It wasn’t perfect, no first kiss is, after all. Their teeth clacked together and their lips were a little too wet. But it held a promise, unspoken and entirely too likely to go  unfulfilled . 

They pulled away, a few tears dripping down Emile’s cheeks.  They pressed their foreheads together and stayed like that for almost a minute, before Toby finally pulled away.

He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Emile’s hand, before releasing it and stepping back.

“Bye, Emile.”

And Emile stayed there, in that tiny alleyway, alone, for the next ten minutes, crying his eyes out.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

As soon as Emile left, things went awry. Apparently passing himself off as them both wasn’t actually a good plan, so ,  once Thomas and Hart were done talking, Hart and Brian  had  figured it out within minutes. Remy was  then  officially confined to the living room (at the absence of a bedroom to ground him to) and as soon as Emile got back, he would share the same fate. Well... it was honestly less confined to the living room and more banned from the remote or any video games. Which meant an endless stream of whatever the three-year-olds wanted to watch. 

Remy never thought he’d get so tired of Doc  McStuffins . As mind-numbing as it was, Peter and Missy clapped along to it happily and pointed  and giggled  at the screen whenever the dragon-dino-thing was on-screen, making sure he saw their favorite character for the four hundredth time. 

... T his was hell for sure. 

He barely even responded when the doorbell rang, to o focused on zoning out to relieve himself of the weird stuffed animal magic. He distantly registered  U ncle Brian opening the door and talking with someone for a bit. Honestly, he was just trying to think about anything but anything around him...

Which made it very jarring to hear his own name spoken. 

He turned and – seeing Toby standing in the doorway – leapt up. He carefully picked his way through the two toddlers and various baby toys and threw his arms around his best friend, holding back a small sob of relief. 

“Toby!” He exclaimed. “What are you doing here? How’d the cops let you through?”

Toby smiled shyly. “I showed ‘em a pic of us from forever ago. I also kinda almost cried at them for a bit. They agreed to let me through, but I’ve got a time limit and... well, my dads will notice I’m gone before too long anyway.”

Remy beamed. “Why, Toby! Did you sneak out of the house just to visit little  ol \- hold on.” Remy’s brow furrowed , and he pulled away . “Shouldn’t you be with Emile right now?”

Pain flashed across Toby’s face. “I wish I  still  was , b ut I don’t have long and I couldn’t just not come and see you.” He faltered. “Is \- is there someplace private we could talk?”

Remy glanced behind him at the two toddlers and their fathers. He  took a breath before  nodd ing and gestur ing for Toby to follow him. They walked down the hall and ducked into the  toddlers’ room . It had bright, cheery lemon-colored walls and soft-looking racecar shaped beds, each with a mobile of butterflies above it. It was basically a toddler paradise. Clearly, Hart and Brian had spared no expense in preparing for their expected children. 

Remy idly poked one of the mobiles, sending it into a spin before looking back at Toby. “So ... what’s up?”

Toby hesitated. “I... Remy you’ve been my best friend since... well , always. The whole serial killer thing is... well , it’s not okay, exactly? But it doesn’t  really  bother me.  It probably should, I guess, but it doesn’t.  So , you kill bad people, whatever, I still beat you at Mario Kart and I’ve seen you overcaffeinated enough times that I’m not exactly scared of you.”

“...But?”

“But...” Toby swallowed. “ My dads don’t see it that way , obviously . They- everyone knows how close we are.  I tried going to school on Monday and I had to leave pretty much immediately. It wasn’t good.  And they’re worried that your... activities coming to light will make me a target. So... I’m moving.”

Remy felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him. “What?”

“I’m moving,” Toby repeated , taking a deep, shaky breath . “I... I don’t know where to , yet.  We’re staying with my grandparents for I while, but I really don’t know where we’re going after.  But it’s  probably gonna be  far enough away that no one will know about me and you being friends.”

The pit beneath Remy’s feet grew, and he heard his own voice more than he consciously decided to speak. “We... we can still be BFFs, though, right? There’s- like- Skype and stuff? And we can still text? There’s even email!”

Toby winced. “I have to delete all my accounts and start new ones. Change my phone number... I have to start fresh, basically. And they’re cutting me off from stuff like that for a few months so that they can make sure the cops or someone else isn’t tracking me. ...And... they don’t want us to stay friends. Just in case...”

“In case of  _ what _ ?” Remy said, trying to sound angry but his voice only coming out broken. “In case I hurt you? In case someone else does? In case- In  case of what?”

“I don’t know.” Toby said, looking grim. “They don’t even know I’m here right now. But... I couldn’t just leave-”

“Without saying goodbye?” Remy scrubbed at his face, glaring at Toby. “Don’t you dare. Toby  Picani , if you say goodbye to me, I swear I will  _ never  _ forgive you!” 

Toby knew Remy well enough to know he didn’t mean it. He still flinched. 

“ O kay.” He said quietly. “Okay. I- I won’t then. So... I’ll see you later, then? Sometime... Somewhere?”

A couple tears fell down Remy’s face , he didn’t bother wiping them away . “You better bring me coffee next time. And an apology.”

Toby’s face softened into a sad smile. “Of course, Rem. I’ll even splurge and bring you the good stuff.”

“Good,” Said Remy, sounding choked. “You better. I- it better be the most frou-frou extravagant drink on the menu, too. All the fixings. Don’t skimp on me,  Tobes .”

“Course not. I know better than that,” Toby laughed. “Like I’d ever deprive my best friend in the world of his needlessly complicated  caffeine .”

Remy let out a small, broken laugh. He sniffled once before practically tackling Toby, ramming into his chest and trying  in vain to stop crying.

“I don’t want you to leave,” He said softly , voice shaking . 

Toby wrapped his arms around Remy , squeezing him tightly . “I don’t wanna go either...”

“I’ll miss you. So so so so much...” 

“Me too.”

Remy squeezed him tightly before pulling away. “Don’t forget about me. Okay? I can’t be replaced. I-”

Toby squeezed his hand. “I know. And there’s no way I  _ could  _ replace you. You’re completely and totally irreplaceable. My very best friend. Forever.”

The tears were practically streaming down Remy’s face now. He squeezed back, using the other hand to wipe his face again. 

“...Don’t say goodbye,” He begged softly. “ _ Please _ .”

Toby sniffled a little and pressed a kiss to Remy’s temple. 

“...See you later, Remy.” 

He pulled away, and despite everything in him Remy let him go. Toby walked out of the room, out of the house... and out of  Remy’s life. 

And then Remy broke. He s at down against a wall, knees against his chest, burying his face in his arms, and sobbing his eyes out. He didn’t even have his sunglasses to hide behind, he’d given them to Emile.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Dorian stepped inside. He looked down at his older brother sympathetically.

“Rem, are you o-”

Remy glared up at him. “Fuck off.” His voice was broken and rough from the crying.

Dorian blinked a few times in surprise, a moment of pain flashing across his face. “Oh- okay. Are you sure-”

“ _ Yes,”  _ Remy hissed. “Go!”

Dorian left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Remy paused for a moment, breathing heavily, before turning around and punching the wall behind him, hard. 

The wall was unaffected, but Remy’s hand began to bleed.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody! We're back with Chapter Sixteen!
> 
> Just so you're aware, we edited the plan slightly, squishing a few future chapters together (but not changing the plot at all) so there will be 26 chapters (plus the epilogue and prologue) total, instead of 30.

Dorian woke up with tears streaming down his face. He was also uncomfortable and cold – due to the lumpy couch and the thin blanket – but his main concern right now was using his hand to muffle the sobs that rippled through him. He didn’t want to wake his brothers up.

However, it seemed that he hadn’t been quiet enough, as, only a few seconds later, he heard shuffling in the darkness, and then a lamp turned on.

Thomas slid off the other couch and padded over to his brother, moving to sit at Dorian’s feet. Both Remy and Emile sat up, too, on the mattress  in  the  middle of the  two sofas. Remy winced at the sudden brightness, as he was right by the lamp, and Emile immediately turned to their littlest brother with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked softly.

“Just-” Dorian hiccupped. “Just a nightmare.”

Thomas wiped away one of Dorian’s tears away with his thumb.

“What was it about?” Emile asked, stifling a yawn and crawling to the edge of the mattress, so he was right by Thomas and Dorian. Remy stayed where he was.

Dorian hesitated for a moment, before answering. “The heist.”

Just the mention of that word made his brothers all freeze, and Dorian continued, sniffling and rubbing his eyes.

“It- it was at the start... when it was just me and Papa, and- and- and-” The last part came out as a sob. “And it was all my  _ fault _ .”

Thomas and Emile immediately rushed to comfort him.

“Of course, it’s not your fault!” Emile said soothingly. “It was just a dream, it’s okay!” 

Thomas nodded in agreement, reaching out and squeezing Dorian’s hand. Dorian yanked it away immediately, leaving a surprised, and somewhat hurt, Thomas.

“No! I don’t mean the dream,” Dorian almost yelled. “I- I mean the real heist! That was my fault. It was all my fault. I ran off when Papa told me not to and a guy got away ‘cos of that and he called the cops and I didn’t notice and it’s all my fault!”

His brothers froze for a few moments of agonising silence. Emile was the first to eventually speak up.

“ Dor , it’s not your fault,” He lied. “It’s- it’s okay, none of us blame you.”

Thomas put his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “It was just bad luck.”

Dorian looked up at them, shaking, searching their expressions for sincerity. It was too dark to really tell.

“Tha-”

“It _i__s _all your fault.”

They all turned sharply to face Remy, eyes wide. He was standing up, his hands in fists, shaking.

“It’s- it’s all your fault,” He repeated. “How could- how could you?”

“Remy!” Thomas said harshly, looking at him with shock and disappointment.

Remy laughed bitterly. “What? It’s true!” He didn’t quite glare at Dorian, but the disbelief and  distress in his expression was somehow even more painful. “You could’ve listened to Papa, but you didn’t, and now we might never see our dads again!”

Dorian stared at him, shaking, his mouth slightly ajar, and silent tears rolling down his face.

“Remy, please don’t do this,” Emile pleaded, standing up and stepping closer to his twin, trying to put his hand on his shoulder.

Remy shoved his arm away. “You’re on his side! How can you be on his side? He’s the reason all of this is happening! If he hadn’t been so  _ stupid _ -”

“Enough,” Thomas interrupted, glaring coldly at Remy. “You don’t get to be a dick just ‘cos Toby left.”

Silence.

There was a beat of silence, and then Thomas realised what he’d just said. His eyes widened with regret. To his credit, this seemed to make Remy realise he’d gone too far, too. 

Thomas opened his mouth to apologise, but Remy turned on his heel and left. Emile followed him out after a moment’s hesitance. He gave Dorian a sad look before he left, but he wouldn’t meet Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas and Dorian stared at the spot the  twins’ had just stood. Dorian then started sniffling again, which led to full sobs. Thomas turned and pulled him into a silent hug, biting his lip to hold back his own tears. He couldn’t break down, too. Dorian was relying on him.

It was at this moment that their Uncle Hart walked in. He was shirtless, wearing only pyjama pants, and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, stifling a yawn. He then looked around, confused. “Where did your brothers go?”

Thomas shrugged silently, pulling away, but still holding his younger brother, and Dorian wouldn’t answer either.

Hart could tell that something was wrong, and he looked at them with growing concern. He opened his mouth as if to comment, but changed his mind and closed it again. He gave them one last sad look before turning and walking away, off to find the twins. Thomas took this moment to check the clock on the wall. He could just about make out the time: 2am.

Thomas squeezed Dorian lightly, pulling away fully. “You should try to get some more sleep, it’s too early to get up.”

Dorian looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded, sniffling.

Thomas shifted slightly so Dorian could lie down fully, and pull the blanket back up to his chest. He then spent the next few minutes humming softly – a medley of different calm Disney songs and Steven Universe tunes – and Dorian began to drift off. The twins never returned.

Thomas leant forward and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s forehead.

“Love you, Dor,” He mumbled.

And Dorian, half asleep and clearly unaware of what he was saying, responded  with: “Love you, too, Dad.”

Thomas stood up, shaking. He stumbled over to the other couch, almost tripping over the corner of the mattress, laying down and pulling the blanket up to his chin. He turned to face the cushions, and bit his hand to muffle his own sobs. 

Fortunately, he managed to cry quietly enough that Dorian remained asleep.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Remy slammed a large piece of paper onto the table, startling his brothers, who’d been quietly eating their cereal. Heedless of their innocent bowls of milk, he unfurled it, showing a map of some kind. He then stood up straighter than his sexuality and gave them all a smug grin. 

After a moment’s pause, Thomas finally got himself together to speak. “Remy? What on earth is this?” 

Remy ignored him, instead turning around and starting to make his own bowl of cereal. Thomas frowned and rolled his eyes. 

He’d already apologized to Emile for bringing up Toby during the argument, but he refused to apologize to Remy until he apologized to Dorian. Seeing as Remy was possibly the most stubborn person alive, this had created a bit of tension. Remy wouldn’t _ ignore _ him, per s e . But if Thomas asked him a question then he wouldn’t answer. And if Thomas asked him to do something, he’d suddenly go deaf. Thomas honestly didn’t mind or really care about that ; sure , it was annoying , but it was whatever. However, he was starting to get really fed up with it because of what it meant. It meant that Remy wasn’t backing down: that he wouldn’t apologize to Dorian , w hich _ really _got on Thomas’ nerves. 

He turned to Emile, inclining his head to the twin that was currently in the status of ‘least favorite.’ 

Emile sighed. “Remy? What’s this map for?” 

“So glad you asked, brother dearest!” Remy whirled around with a big grin. “This here is a map of the courthouse at which our dads are going to be taken for their trial!” 

“Okay...” Emile said slowly. “So... Why do you have it?” 

“Correction: Why do _ we _have it?” Remy grinned. “And the answer is that I found it online in some back channels on Uncle Brian’s computer and printed it out before he could stop me.” 

“That’s a bit shady,” Thomas commented. 

“So’s everything we do, keep up,” Remy quipped. “And as for why we need it, this little baby is gonna help us get our dads out of prison.” 

A hush fell over the table, the Sanders siblings looking at the map with varying degrees of doubt and confidence. Finally, Dorian asked the question they were all thinking. 

“...How?” 

Remy rolled his eyes. “By us busting them out, duh.” 

“Whoa, slow your roll,” Thomas said. “We can’t just ‘bust them out,’ we’re kids! We may have a bit more criminal skill than most people our age, but we’re still kids. We’d be going up against a bunch of armed officers and security precautions we’ve only heard of in movies. It wouldn’t be easy, Remy.” 

Remy glared at him. “Anyone else have two cents to throw in?” 

“He’s right, Rem.” Emile said, quietly. “We can’t do it. Even if we made it past all that other stuff, we’re under house arrest. It was hard enough to get me out of the house, but getting all four of us, _ plus _our costumes and weapons which we don’t even have right now? It’d be impossible. We’d be caught, and it would mess everything up.” 

Remy sat at the table heavily, glowering at the map. “At least I’m trying,” He muttered. 

Silence settled uncomfortably over the table. They ate their cereal, almost scared to breathe or crunch too loud and trying not to stare at the map and formulate plans they couldn’t use. 

“What if we didn’t do it?” Dorian asked quietly, breaking the silence. 

Remy rolled his eyes and glared at him. “Yeah, pretty sure we established that.” 

“No, I mean-” Dorian took a deep breath and pointed at the map. “_ We _can’t do it. But what’s stopping us from hiring someone else to?” 

The others stared at him, and he swallowed, trying to gather his courage to keep talking. 

“You got this from Uncle Brian’s computer, right?” Remy nodded. “Well then what’s stopping us from using that same computer to hire a gang or someone to break our dads out for us?” 

His brothers blinked at him, before slowly shifting to look at the map. 

“...How would we pay them?” Emile asked. 

Dorian shrugged. “They probably won’t accept our allowance but... maybe we could steal Uncle Hart’s credit card?” 

“No, he’d figure that out,” Thomas said. “...But we could probably funnel some from all our dad’s accounts into a separate card and use that. To spread it out and make it look less suspicious.” 

“But they can’t use their cards, can they?” Emile asks. “Since they’re in cells and stuff. Maybe we could funnel it in a little at a time. Make it look like we’re buying candy bars and stuff a bit at a time until we’ve saved up enough to pay whoever it is.” 

Remy nodded. “If we ask a rival gang then they’ll ask for a lot, too. In addition to the infamous Tasks owing them a favor, since Dad is the next patriarch.” 

“Yikes, I forgot about that,” Thomas said. “Maybe if we look up someone smaller? Or maybe some assassins instead, since they have no horse in that race?” 

“Would that be enough people?” Dorian asked. 

“It’s not about numbers, it’s about skill,” Thomas corrected. “And frankly, a group of assassins would definitely have the skills to do it, if we paid the right price.” 

“So, it’s settled then?” Remy asked, looking almost hopeful. “We’re getting them out?” 

“It’s gonna take a lot of steps,” Thomas mused, looking over the map again. “But with any luck... We should be in Canada by Christmas.” 

*** 

A few hours had passed, and the four brothers were now in the living room, watching cartoons and ignoring the awkward tension that still lingered between them. Thomas, Dorian and Emile were all sat on one couch – the 13-year-old wedged between the two brothers that didn’t not-so-subtly glare at him every few minutes. Remy was sat alone on the other couch, as far away from them as possible. 

Emile chewed anxiously on his thumb, his knees up against his chest. His eyes darted over to Remy every-so-often, but his twin wouldn’t meet his eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t happy with the current seating arrangement, and it left an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of Emile’s stomach. He wondered if he should move, but he felt that that would be betraying Dorian, and that left a sour taste in Emile’s mouth. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

The door swung open, and all four of them looked up as Hart stepped into the room, looking more exhausted and exasperated than usual, which was saying something, given their current situation. 

“How long were you planning on keeping this from us?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

The brothers exchanged confused looks. 

“What?” Thomas asked. 

Hart sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and then pulling out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He unfolded it, presenting it to the four brothers, and giving them a dry look. It was the one Remy had shown them earlier – the blueprints for the building the trial would be held in. Thomas, Emile and Dorian all turned to look at Remy, and he held his hands up defensively. 

“Brian overheard you during breakfast,” Hart continued, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. “Why would you keep something like that a secret from us?” 

At first, no one spoke up, so Thomas realized that he’d have to be the mature older brother and speak for them. 

“We... uh, we couldn’t risk you saying no.” 

Hart stared at them for a few seconds, before sighing again, his expression softening. “You need to tell us these things. You can’t keep secrets from us, okay? Not now, not with everything that’s going on.” 

The four teenagers had the decency to look ashamed at that – though Remy still looked a bit irritated, as he always did these days. 

“And, for the record, we’re already been working on a plan to break them out during the trial,” Hart continued. 

Remy straightened up. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He asked, offended. 

“We were about to, though I see now that we should’ve mentioned it earlier, I’m sorry.” Hart gestured in the vague direction of the staircase. “Come on, let’s go upstairs, I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.” 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

“Thomas, this is a really bad idea.”

“Shhh, we’re doing it.”

“Thomas.”

“ Shhhhhh !” Thomas held his finger to his lips, loudly shushing Dorian as he squeezed his younger brother’s shoulder.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Why do we have to be quiet? Uncle  Hart and Uncle Brian are out, it’s just the four of us and the little twins at home, right now.”

“Exactly,” Thomas continued. “I don’t want Remy and Emile to know we’re sneaking out. They’ll try to stop us.”

“This seems like a bad idea, though.”

Thomas sighed. “Emile got to sneak out and go see Toby. Toby got to sneak in and come see Remy. I should be allowed to take my littlest brother out for ice cream if I want to. Come on, you can’t honestly tell me that that doesn’t sound fun.”

Dorian mulled it over for a few moments. “Okay, fine.”

The older brother grinned, grabbing Dorian’s wrist and beginning to drag him through the house, dodging the various toys and miscellaneous knick-knacks that were scattered all over the place. They passed Emile at one point – carrying Missy on his hip – and he gave them a mildly suspicious look, but said nothing.

When they reached the back door, they opened it slowly and carefully, cringing a little as it creaked, but successfully escaping into the garden and shutting it behind them. Thomas grinned down at his younger brother, squeezing his shoulder as Dorian rolled his eyes, though it was obvious he was trying not to smile.

“We have about four hours until Uncle Hart and Uncle Brian get home, so we should spend about two hours max in town,” Thomas said, looking at his watch. “Hopefully Remy won’t  stoop any lower and tell on us.”

Dorian anxiously chewed on his lip. “Hopefully,” He repeated.

Thomas looked up, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure Remy will apologise soon, he's just being stubborn, he didn’t mean it.” He didn’t sound like he believed his own words, but Dorian didn’t point that out. 

Dorian shrugged in response. “Come on,” He said, changing the subject. “We should get going before one of them realises we’re gone.”

***

Almost half an hour had passed, and the two brothers had only just reached the town. Their hoods were up and they were constantly ducking their heads to avoid being recognised, but other than that, they’re walk had been pretty peaceful. It was nice having some time to themselves, especially with everything that was going on right now.

“Here we go,” Thomas said when they arrived at the ice cream shop. 

They paused, lingering in front of the brightly-coloured entrance, eyes darting around nervously, making sure they hadn’t already been spotted.

“What if someone recognises us?” Dorian asked, his arms crossed. “This was a bad idea.”

Thomas paused for a moment. “The news has been portraying us pretty sympathetically, so, uh, I guess we just have to hope for the best? We can always run away if it’s too much.”

Dorian sighed. “Fine,” He said. “Let’s get this over with.”

The older brother grinned, grabbing Dorian’s wrist and half-dragging him into the shop. The bell above the door made a pleasant ringing sound when they stepped into the store, though most of the customers fortunately paid them little attention, too focused on acquiring their own sweet treats. Dorian let out a quiet sigh of relief, though he remained on guard as they got into line, scrunching up his shoulders, ducking his head and tugging at his hood so it covered as much of his face as possible.

They stood quietly in line for a few minutes, Thomas humming along to the upbeat music as Dorian watched their surroundings. Someone sat at one of the few tables in the store was flicking through a newspaper, and at one point, Dorian caught the words ‘Roman Sanders’ in a headline, and had flinched so visibly that Thomas noticed and gave him a look of concern. Thankfully, the man never once looked up, so they weren’t spotted.

When they reached the front of the line, Thomas stepped forward, in front of Dorian, and opened his mouth to speak. The cashier took one look at them, and then her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and her mouth fell open in surprise.

Dorian froze, and even Thomas flinched at that. The cashier looked them over, her expression a mix of shock, confusion and slight horror. But, when Dorian looked back at her with more fear in his eyes than in hers, and Thomas gave her a silent pleading look, her expression softened.

She cleared her throat. “Um... may I take your order?”

Thomas relaxed, giving the cashier a relieved smile, though Dorian remained tense through the whole ordering process, and still watched their surroundings anxiously as they paid, received their ice cream and walked out the door.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” Thomas said, nudging Dorian with his elbow as they wandered down the street, enjoying their sweet treats.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Fine, you were right. This was... a good idea.”

“I told you so,” Thomas sang, grinning victoriously.

The younger brother sighed, but he looked like he was trying not to smile. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get all smug about it. It’s just ice cream.”

“Yeah, well-” Thomas cut himself off mid-sentence, freezing in place.

Dorian stopped too, brow creasing in worry and confusion. “Thomas?” He asked cautiously.

He followed his older brother’s gaze, his eyes landing on a group of teenagers crossing the street towards them.

“We were classmates,” Thomas said. “They’re going to recognise us.”

“Shit.”

There were a few beats of silence, and then one of the nearby teenagers looked up, spotting Thomas and Dorian immediately, his eyes widening as he froze. 

Dorian grabbed Thomas’s wrist. “Run.”

He pulled his brother down the street, both their ice creams unintentionally falling to the ground as they ran away, darting around corners and narrowly dodging numerous passers-by. They went deeper and deeper into the town, into a more run-down area, finally ducking into an alleyway and stopping to catch their breaths.

“I-” Dorian began, glaring at Thomas between breaths. “I fucking  _ told  _ you so. This was a stupid idea; we’ve already been spotted twice. We’re lucky we haven’t been caught, you absolute  _ dumbass _ .”

Thomas leant back against a wall, running his fingers through his hair. “L- Language. But okay, you might have a point.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, dragging one hand down his face in irritation. “Do you think  Em had to deal with this on his date-thing with Toby?” He asked. 

The older brother shrugged.

They were quiet for about a minute, breathing heavily, before they suddenly heard a noise from just outside the entrance to the alleyway – someone talking loudly on the phone, walking in their general direction. 

The duo exchanged a nervous look, before Thomas moved to Dorian’s side, and they both ducked behind a dumpster. Unfortunately for them, the strange man stopped when he was just a few feet away from them, speaking loudly enough for them to easily overhear him.

“And then she had the nerve to try to turn me down, the fucking tease. I paid for dinner, I deserved to get laid – she got what was coming to her.”

Thomas and Dorian exchanged a disgusted look, and the older of the two brothers carefully peered around the dumpster, getting a quick look at the creepy man’s face, before ducking out of sight before being spotted.

“He was on our to-kill list,” Thomas hissed.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Shit, really?”

Thomas nodded. There were a few beats of silence, before he spoke up again. 

“You got your knife?” He asked. The younger brother patted his pocket in confirmation. “Good. Then let’s do this.”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

“Deep breath. Big smile. I have tissues if you need them,” Brian said softly. “Are you ready?”

Hart did as he said, taking a deep, slightly shaky breath. “No,” He admitted. “But he needs me more than I need to avoid this.”

Brian nodded, taking his husband’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “Okay... I’ll be holding your hand the whole time, okay, hon?”

Hart nodded back. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They walked into the visitation room hand in hand. Hart sat down in in the hard, plastic chair, Brian pulling another up next to him as he picked up the phone. Hart smiled into the  receiver . 

“Hey, Patty-cake.”

Patton smiled weakly at him through the thick glass. “Hey, Harty-party.”

Brian chuckled quietly at the nicknames, which made Patton giggle. 

“So, how’re things? Are the boys okay?” Patton asked.

Hart held back a wince. “Oh, they’re okay. Hanging in there as well as could be expected.” He paused for a moment. “How’s your side of things?”

Patton pulled an unhappy face. “Bad.”

“Oh no.” 

Patton swallowed, his shoulders tense. “It’s uh- it's not the greatest, no. Roman... Roman is getting worse. More destructive, I think. More like he gets when he’s... mad.” 

Patton’s eyes darted towards the guards nearby and Hart’s heart sank. Of course, he couldn’t tell them what’s really going on. They’re still undercover - still pinning the blame on Roman and making him seem as guilty as possible to make the rest of them look more innocent. It made sense, but that didn’t make it hurt any less to watch. 

“Are y- is he being kept away from you at least?” He asked. 

He watched Patton swallow and nod shakily. “Yeah he- uh- we're all in separate cells. Not- I mean, Roman is, but the rest of us, Logan, Virgil, and me- we aren’t in isolation. I’ve got a roommate!” He giggled half-heartedly. “First time since college.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Hart laughed. “What a nightmare that was.”

“My roommate was so much fun!” Patton laughed. “We had lots of parties together! Not even the usual college kind, we just really liked balloons.”

“That part was fun,” Hart admitted. “It was your roommate sneaking drinks into your dorm that I hated! I only had to berate him once, though... I think he’s  _ still  _ scared of me!”

Patton laughed a little more before just quietly smiling at his cousin, tears sparkling in his eyes. He glanced at the clock, his happier expression slipping a little as they saw how little time they really had. 

“How are the boys really doing?” He asked quietly. “I know what you said but... I know my kids. There’s no way this isn’t affecting them.”

Hart sighed, exchanging a short glance with Brian. There never was any way to sneak these things past Patton. He took another deep breath before starting. 

“They... they miss you,” He began. “So much. A couple of uncles aren’t really a good substitute for four dads. They... they won’t really talk to us, not about anything important, anyway. They trust Thomas for authority more than the two of us; everyone except Remy, that is, who doesn’t listen to any of us. I think... I think there was an argument, a big one. It- if I’m being honest, Pat? It’s a real mess.” 

Patton smiled sympathetically, but his eyes betrayed his sadness. “Yeah... that sounds about right. I wish it didn’t, but...” He took a deep breath of his own. “Remy probably needs time to be angry. I don’t know how long this will last, since it’s, uh... a lot more important than getting grounded. But just give him space and he’ll go to someone in his own time.”

Patton’s eyes unfocused as he got lost in thought. “Though I don’t know who else is left to go to anymore...”

A heavy silence settled over them for a moment before Brian cleared his throat. 

“On a more positive note,” He said gently. “Dorian is talking again. He went quiet for a while there and we were getting scared that it would stick, but he did so... crisis averted?”

Patton huffed a laugh, short and bittersweet. “That’s good. Give them all a hug from me, okay? Tell them...” He hesitated. “Tell them all their... all their real dads love them.”

Hart felt like his heart was cracking open as he smiled. “Will do, I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear it.”

He opened his mouth to add something when Brian’s phone went off, the upbeat ringtone informing them it was his personal, not the business phone. He blushed a little and excused himself to deal with it. 

Hart shrugged and turned his attention back to Patton, determined not to waste precious time. 

“So!” He said brightly. “Where on earth are you keeping your recipe book, mister? I’ve combed your kitchen three times and I still can’t find it! I want to make those rolls of yours, dangit!”

Patton laughed. “Why should I give you my secret recipes! They’re secret for a reason, Hart!”

“Ah-ah,” Hart tutted. “You can’t hide them forever. I know for a fact that at least half of them are actually Auntie April’s recipes, but I don’t want to put her through the trouble so tell me where it’s at, mischief maker!”

Patton giggled. “Okay, okay, it’s-” 

Brian reentered the room, face stormy. Hart felt a pit growing in his stomach even as he tried for a smile. 

“What’s up, babe?” 

“Emile just called,” Brian said, carefully eyeing the guards. “We need to get home. Apparently, Thomas hit his head or something.”

Aka: Sanders family code for  _ “Someone made a dumbass decision but we can’t talk about it because of who’s nearby so let’s go.”  _

“Oh gosh,” Patton said softly. “Go ahead and go, I don’t mind. Just... take care of my boys, okay? Do your best, even if they fight you on it.”

Hart hesitated before giving Patton a brief, tight smile. “We’ll try, Patty-cake.”

He put the phone back on the receiver and stood slowly, keeping up the brave face right up until the doors closed behind them with a condemning  _ THUNK _ . 

“Orange never was Patty’s color,” Hart sniffled. 

“I’m sorry,” Brian rubbed at his arm. “I’m so _so_ sorry, but we have to go deal with this.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Hart assured him. “I just... wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

Brian tugged him into a soft side hug and squeezed gently. They stayed there for a moment or two, just... recuperating. 

“We do have to go...” Brian said softly, pulling back. “C’mon, dear. I’ll fill you in on the way there.”

***

After returning home, talking to the twins and searching the town for almost half an hour, they found Thomas and Dorian huddled in an alley, hunched over a body with bloodstains on their clothes. Hart practically stormed over to them, half tempted to grab Thomas by the scruff and drag him home. But he managed not to, somehow. 

Instead he marched over, much calmer.

“Exactly, what do you two think you’re doing?” He demanded. 

Both teens jumped. They turned to him, showcasing how very _very_ bloodstained they were. Hart was gonna have an aneurism. At least they had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Uhhhhh...” Dorian paused. “He was on the list?”

Hart took a very deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. “The list. He- Brian? Brian please explain why that was a bad idea.”

Brian nodded and stepped  forward, his arms crossed. “The fact that you’re in broad daylight, the fact that you broke house arrest, the fact that you had no backup, the fact that you had no costumes, the fact that you had, what? Two knives on you to do this? You could have blown your cover, made your father’s case faulty, and completely knocked off kilter everything that we’ve been planning since the arrest.” He paused. “Oh, and you also could have gotten hurt.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “We know what we’re doing.”

“You’ve been at this for three years,” Hart said. “I’ve been at this a lifetime. You can have a say in who and when you kill when you catch up to me. Now, come on. We have clean clothes in the car. You two are changing in here while Uncle Brian and I check for cameras.”

Thomas frowned, standing up. “We’re not-”

“Yes, you are.” Brian said firmly. “This isn’t a debate, Thomas. You’ve made a mistake. And now it’s time to clean it up.”

Thomas was practically glowering. “But-”

“No buts  except yours in blood-free clothes!” Hart snapped

“C’mon, it’s not as if-”

“I don’t  wanna hear it. You messed up big time, kiddo, an-”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” 

Dorian flinched. Thomas’ chest heaved as panted, glaring fiercely at Hart, his hands clenched into fists. 

“Do- don’t call me that.” He repeated, swallowing hard. “And stop talking over me! I- I'm not- I know we messed up but we- it's not... We may not have the same experience but we aren’t totally dumb either!”

“Really?” Hart asked. “ Cause this was pretty dumb, Tommy?”

“I know but it’s not like-”

“Is everything okay?”

The family whipped around, looking at the new voice. A portly man in spats was looking back at them, stood between their car and the entrance to the alleyway, gradually growing more and more alarmed as he took in the bloodstained clothes. And then he spotted the body just behind them. His eyes widened, and Hart let out another frustrated sigh.

“See? See this is what happens when you do this in broad daylight. And without masks!” He shook his head. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I’m sure you don’t deserve this.”

Without any further ado his hand whipped out, flinging a knife into the man’s body. It embedded itself in his chest and he fell to the ground with a thud, hitting his head and knocking himself out, though he’d bleed out within minutes, anyway. Hart walked over to him, effortlessly leaning down and pulling out the knife with a squelch. It was lucky that this area of town was practically abandoned, otherwise someone nearby could have heard them

“Once again, I do apologize,” He said calmly to the corpse, before standing back up and turned to the boys. “Change. Now.”

“Uncle Hart?” Dorian piped  up, voice a little wobbly.

“What?” Hart asked, realizing as Dorian flinched again that it was probably harsher than he meant.

Dorian swallowed and pointed down at the ground near the man he’d just killed. Hart restrained an eyeroll as he looked down, too.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

He’d been dialling 911. 


	21. Chapter Twenty

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, _ fuck _.” Hart kicked a wall in frustration, barely even wincing as that caused his foot to ache – though the other three winced on his behalf. 

Brian sighed, bending down for a moment to hang up the 911 call – hoping they hadn’t heard a thing, especially as the man who’d called had died before saying a word to the dispatcher. He then walked to the end of the alleyway, leaning against the car and keeping an eye out for any other witnesses. Fortunately, they seemed to be alone, and there weren’t any cameras in sight. 

“Right, just, uh...” Hart looked around, trying not to glare at the sheepish teenagers beside him. He took a moment or two to think things through, before continuing. “Okay, you two, help me load these bodies into the trunk before anyone spots us. I’m gonna call in a favour to get someone to come clean this mess up – if we’re lucky, this will all be over and done with within an hour, and you guys won’t have _ completely _messed this whole thing up.” 

Thomas and Dorian elected to follow the instructions this time – the latter much paler and quieter than he had been before they’d noticed the phone. They got changed as soon as the bodies were safely tucked in the trunk, and soon they were on their way to their least favourite place to hide corpses – the forest at the edge of town. 

It took hours, burying the bodies, and by the time that they were on their way back to Hart and Brian’s house it was already getting dark. 

*** 

Hart roughly opened the car door, slamming it behind him after he stepped out, marching up the driveway, unlocking the front door, and entering the house. Brian gave the teenagers a sympathetic look, but didn’t say anything, waiting for them to get out of the car, and then following his husband into the house. 

Thomas and Dorian exchanged a hesitant look, before walking up the driveway and stepping through the front door. They almost immediately came face-to-face with a smug-looking Remy. 

“Don’t,” Thomas scowled. 

Remy put his hands up in mock defence, though he was smirking victoriously. “I didn’t say anything.” 

There were a few tense moments where no one said anything, and Remy and Dorian wouldn’t meet each other’s eyes, the latter paying more attention to the floor than anything else. Then, Thomas sighed, slouching, before turning and walking into the living room, and flopping onto the couch, burying his face in a cushion. Remy and Dorian stayed like that for another second or two, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, before Remy turned on his heel and left, in the opposite direction to Thomas, leaving Dorian to stew in silence. 

Upstairs, Hart and Brian weren’t doing very much better. 

Brian stepped into the bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind him. His eyes immediately landed on his husband, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face buried into his hands. 

His brow creased in concern, and he sat down beside him, placing his hand on Hart’s shoulder. 

“Honey, are you okay?” 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Hart said, his voice cracking. He pulled his hands away from his face, turning to look at his husband, revealing the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over. “I- I just... we’re only just ready for toddlers! Not- not _ teenagers _.” 

He let out a sob that made Brian’s heart hurt. 

“I... I love them, of course, they’re family, but...” Hart’s voice shook as he spoke. “They don’t even _ listen _to us. What are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to take care of them?” 

“The trial isn’t too far away,” Brian reassured softly, reaching up and running his fingers through Hart’s hair. “Once we’ve broken Patton and his husbands out, they’ll all be together again, and everything will go back to normal, mostly.” 

“But, what if we don’t?” Hart asked desperately. “What if we fail, and they all end up locked up forever, and- and-” 

“That won’t happen,” Brian said, trying to reassure himself as much as Hart. 

Hart quickly shook his head. “But what if it _ does _ ? We- we can’t... we can’t just _ not _ take care of them, of course we would. But...” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Thomas is only nine years younger than you! And they don’t listen to us, now, do you honestly think it’ll get better? I don’t- I don’t know what to _ do! _” 

He broke into desperate sobs, his husband wrapping his arms around him so he could cry into his chest, Brian continuing to run his fingers through Hart’s hair reassuringly. 

Unbeknownst to them, Emile was outside the door, listening, holding back his own tears and covering his mouth to keep himself quiet. After a moment or two of this, he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves, taking a deep breath to calm himself, and stepped away from the door. 

He’d had a question he’d wanted to ask his uncles, but he could figure this out himself. He wouldn’t bother them if they were struggling that much. 

*** 

Dorian lay on the floor, half-heartedly playing pattycake with Peter. It was no Patton-Cake, but, you know. Whatever at this point. 

A knock sounded on the nursery door. After he said they could come in, Emile cautiously poked his head through the door before actually walking in. He looked like he’d been crying. Again. 

“...Uncle Brian said everything’s gonna be okay. That it’s all gonna work out and stuff.” He said. “I thought you should know.” 

Dorian nodded absently. 

Emile hesitated. “How are you holding up? I know asking if you’re okay would be a dumb question but I wanted to check and see...” 

Dorian shrugged. There was no way to really explain the stuff swirling in his head. He kept going over what happened in his head and he really could justify it. It had been a rookie mistake not to look for phones and he’d missed them twice now! He kept ruining everything. And he really wished he knew how to stop. 

Emile bit his lip. “Okay... well I’m here if you ever need me. I know it’s not much but we could always just... talk? You... You’re still my little brother, Dee. I worry about you, and I’m here for you. We all are.” 

Dorian snorted. 

“Okay, maybe not quite all of us,” Emile winced. “But he still loves you, and he’s the minority in this family. The rest of us all love and support you. We’re here, okay? We’re here. And we’ve got to stay close because-” 

“’Cause we don’t know how much longer we’ll be together?” Dorian asked coldly. 

Emile flinched visibly. “I... what?” 

“I’m not dumb, Em.” Dorian said. “I may be the youngest but I’m not dumb. It’s entirely possible we’ll be split up if our dads don’t make it out. Our uncles have their hands full, Thomas can’t corral all of us at once, and even putting those two together isn’t enough. There’s a very real possibility we’ll get thrown back into the system. And no one wants a murderer’s kids, especially when those kids have killed, too. So, we’ll probably age out of it or whatever.” 

Emile was quiet for a long time before sighing. “You don’t even remember the system, you Debbie Downer.” 

Dorian shrugged and Emile knelt down on the carpet with him. He put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, making the younger pause, although he still refused to look his brother in the eye. 

“We’re not gonna let that happen, Dor.” He said softly. “Our family has been divided enough. I don’t know about the others, but _ I’m _ not letting us get split up any more than we already have been. I’m not letting you go, Dee. Not for anything. You are my little brother, and there isn’t a force on earth that can change that.” 

Dorian swallowed, throat suddenly feeling a bit thick. He leaned into Emile’s side, not enough to be a hug, but still letting Emile give him support. He couldn’t help but think it was almost poetic, in a way, as Emile wrapped an arm around his shoulders to further secure him. 

“We’re still a family.” He whispered. “Still a family.” 


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Hart sighed as he hung up the phone. “Okay, so, kids, this is why we have backups for the backups of our backups.” 

“What?” Emile asked. 

“Plan C, kids.” Brian translated. 

“What’s plan C?” Remy asked. 

Brian beckoned them all around the table and unfurled a map of the courthouse. They were all familiar with it at this point, breakout plan C being more like breakout plan K, but it was helpful to have a visual aid. Hart pointed solemnly at the entrance. 

“So... Plan B fell through. The group we’d hired chickened out when they heard how many cops were involved.” 

Brian winced. “I can get another one, but time is running short. The trial is getting closer and closer and-” 

“It has to be during the trial.” Thomas interrupted. “We can’t- if it’s after then it’s game over.” 

Hart put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We might still have time. We don’t know for sure what the sentence will be or what will happen after it, kiddo.” 

Thomas shrugged the hand off and coldly said: “Don’t call me ‘kiddo.’” 

Hart frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Remy beginning to talk, hands on hips. 

“Alright, so if they chickened out, then what’s our next plan?” 

“Well, timing is everything,” Brian said. “I have another group we can send in who definitely won’t back out but... they’re kind of unstable. Prone to getting their heads knocked together, if you know what I mean.” 

“I don’t care,” Thomas said. “We don’t have any better options. Send them in.” 

Hart shuddered as an image of his aunt overlapped Thomas in his vision. He swallowed a bit and smiled gently. 

“The plan will have to be changed too,” He said. “Just tweaked a bit in order to give them time to prep.” 

“We don’t _ have _time.” Thomas said. “The trial-” 

“I’m aware.” Hart interrupted. “I know when the trial is, Thomas. Believe me, none of us wants it to reach zero hour. But... if Brian’s talking about who I think he is, then it’s not only probable they’ll need time, but likely that we’ll have to adjust the timing slightly.” 

Remy scowled. “I hate that.” 

“We all do,” Brian assured him. “But-” 

A few squeals sounded from the baby monitor on the counter and the family fell quiet to listen for further distress. After a few moments passed with no further noise, they continued, thanking the stars above that the baby twins were much heavier sleepers than the teen ones. 

“But from what I can tell, this might actually be our best chance,” Brian continued. 

“How so?” Dorian asked. 

“Well, see, this group isn’t the best with breaking out of physical buildings. However, one thing they’ve got a knack for is car chases and taking stuff out of moving vehicles.” Brian said. “So... if we can swing it so that all your dads are in the same van while they’re being taken to the trial, then they can bust them out and haul a-” 

_ “Ahem!” _

“...haul butt back to Canada.” 

Hart nodded, satisfied, and Remy rolled his eyes at him. 

“Uncle Hart, we know the word ass.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t!” 

Remy rolled his eyes again. “Okay, anyway... what are these guys getting out of it?” 

“Well, we’re paying them, for starters.” Hart said. “That’s a pretty good incentive in and of itself. Additionally, though, they’ll be owed a favor from the Tasks which is no small thing in the criminal underground. Some covet it just for the notoriety so it’s entirely possible the favor won’t come up again until one of you takes the spot as head.” 

“...What?” 

“Well, cause it’s like-” 

“No, no, I get the favor thing.” Thomas said. “What do you mean by the last part?” 

Hart blinked. “Oh... you didn’t know?” 

“Know what?” Remy demanded. 

Hart hesitated. “Well... While we resent the label, The Tasks really are more mob than gang. And like a mob, we have the title of head that passes down generationally. Auntie May has the title at the moment, cause, she got it from Grammy Marigold when she died. And when Auntie May dies it’ll go to your Dad. And once he’s gone...” 

“One of us.” Dorian said, shivering a little. “One of us is gonna be the next head of the Tasks.” 

“...Thomas too, probably.” Remy said with an eyeroll and a barely-repressed sneer. 

“Wha- hey!” Thomas swallowed hard. “We don’t know that for sure!” 

“Don’t we?” Remy asked, face twisting into a saccharine smile. “You’re the eldest, aren’t you? The big boy?” 

Thomas frowned. “I don’t really appreciate that tone, Remy.” 

“Ohhh, look! Dad’s not even dead yet and he’s giving orders!” 

“That wasn’t an order!” 

“Then why-” 

“_ Enough _ !” Hart snapped. “Now I see why no one had told you yet. This isn’t something to argue about, it’s probably not even going to happen for years! Your Dad and my aunt _ both _aren’t dying anytime soon. So, if you four can’t focus on the here and now and help us refine this plan, I may have to ask you to leave the room.” 

A cry filtered through the baby monitor and Hart sighed. He tossed a pleading look to Brian, who nodded and left to go take care of the baby twins. 

“Look,” Hart sighed after a moment. “I know it’s been a rough... well, it’s just been rough in general right now. I’d wager a guess that none of us are each other's biggest fans at the moment.” 

The kids shrugged, glancing at one another awkwardly. 

“But we need to stand strong,” Hart continued. “The foundations of our family have been shaken; I won’t lie. None of us are having a good time, but family is where our strengths lie. It’s what makes us Sanders’ stronger than any others out there. If we fall apart now, then what’s going to keep us together if something worse happens? Your dads alone aren’t the glue of this family. It is up to every single one of us to keep together, to keep strong, and to carry on. We’re a family. Forged of water far stronger than wombs. Which means that when the going gets tough we sit down, and we help one another through it. Together. Understood?” 

The boys gave Hart small affirmations that did little to ease his tense shoulders. But he let it go anyway. He was getting really tired of raised voices and hot tempers, particularly out of himself. 

“Okay,” He said after a moment. “Then let’s get back to planning.” 


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

Things had never been more awkward between Remy and Emile. 

Sure, they weren’t  _ actively  _ arguing, and they didn’t routinely glare at one another like Thomas and Remy did, but Emile was still firmly on  Dorian’s side of the argument, which Remy was still bitter about. 

This was the first time they’d really been alone together in days, Emile spending most of his time supervising the little twins whenever their uncles were busy. Which was often at the moment. The tension was thick and almost unbearable. 

Remy’s sunglasses masked his expression as he haphazardly stuffed his things into the backpack, though he was obviously scowling. Emile was packing much slower, more carefully, folding his few clothes to maximise space. He continuously glanced at his brother, as if waiting for him to say something.

“Rem-” He began.

“What you’re actually talking to me now?” Remy snapped, turning to face him and crossing his arms.

Emile sighed. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Really? ‘Cos it seems to me that you spend all your time either with those  _ traitors,  _ or with the baby twins.”

“They aren’t traitors.”

Even with the sunglasses, Emile could still tell that Remy was glaring at him, which definitely didn’t help the fact that nowadays he was almost always on the brink of tears. If Remy started yelling at him, Emile would almost certainly start crying.

“It’s Dorian’s fault that our dads are behind bars, and Thomas is siding with him. They’re, like, the  _ definition  _ of traitors.”

“Remy, they are  _ not  _ traitors,” Emile repeated desperately, his hands clasped in front of him. “Please, you have got to stop this!”

Remy stared back at him, disbelieving, before scoffing quietly and turning away.

“I don’t  _ have  _ to do anything.”

Emile sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This- this whole thing isn’t Dorian’s fault! We just... we just got super unlucky, that’s all.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew Remy was rolling his eyes at him. 

“Sure,” He said acidly, moving to walk away, but Emile caught his wrist.

“Remy, I’m serious!” Emile begged. “You’ve- our family is falling apart! I can’t- I can’t... I can’t lose you, too.” That last part was barely above a whisper, but Remy clearly heard him, freezing in place.

There were a few moments of silence, before Emile sniffled quietly, and Remy sighed.

He turned around, facing his twin, and opening his arms.

“C’mere,” Remy mumbled, his voice a little thicker than before, and Emile immediately hugged him, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything, both pretending to ignore that the other was crying, so it wouldn’t become too awkward. Eventually, Emile pulled back, grabbing a tissue from his pocket and dabbing at his eyes.

“You really should apologise to Dorian. Thomas, too, maybe.”

Remy wrinkled his nose, and Emile politely ignored when he removed his sunglasses and aggressively rubbed his reddening eyes with his sleeves. 

He placed his sunglasses back on his face. “I’m not apologising to Thomas,” He grumbled.

Emile suppressed a sigh, but he supposed that apologising to Dorian was better than nothing.

“Okay,” Emile said. “Are you finished packing?”

Remy shrugged. “I’ll finish later.”

The trial date was getting closer and closer with every passing day, and they were just finishing their preparations. The teenagers were all making sure to pack up all their things, ready to depart to Canada as soon as necessary.

There was a beat, and then Emile gave his brother a small, grateful smile.

“Come on, I think they’re in the living room.”

Remy didn’t look too thrilled, but he followed Emile out the door, down the stairs and into the living room. 

Dorian was sat, curled up on the couch and watching the TV, and Thomas was sat on the carpet, playing with the little twins. He glanced up at Emile when they entered the room, nodding in greeting, deliberately ignoring Remy.

Remy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before marching over to Dorian. 

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Remy said, though his scowl almost ruined the apology, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Dorian’s eyes widened, and his jaw almost dropped. Thomas looked just as surprised, though he quickly unfroze when the little twins started whining that he’d stopped playing.

“Uh... oh- okay,” Dorian stumbled over his words. “Do you... do you  wanna \- um...” He awkwardly patted the space on the sofa beside him. “Do you  wanna watch TV with me?”

Remy paused for a moment, before shrugging. “Sure.”

He sat down beside Dorian, and Thomas turned and gave Emile an incredulous look. He then got up, ignored by both Remy and Dorian – who were more aware of each other than anything else – and grabbed Emile’s arm, pulling him out of the room.

“How the hell did you do that?” Thomas whispered loudly, almost laughing. “I thought he’d stay stubborn forever.”

Emile shrugged. “I  dunno . I just... talked to him, I guess.”

“Good. He needed someone to talk sense into him, and he wasn’t  gonna listen to me.” Thomas patted Emile on the shoulder. “Are you finished packing?” 

Emile shook his head. “No, I’m  gonna go finish for me and Remy now.” He gestured vaguely towards Remy and Dorian, who weren’t talking, but looked content. “I don’t  wanna bother him about it, them getting along is more important.”

“Agreed.” Thomas said, looking back at them. “And Emile? ...Thanks again.”

Emile gave Thomas a small smile and nodded. 

He went back upstairs, ducking back into the other room and paused for a moment. His finger ran across the button he’d pinned to his bag. Ruby and Sapphire smiled back up at him, practically mocking how his chest was collapsing in on itself with every passing day. 

“I’ll... I’ll get him back... we’ll get them all back.” He promised himself quietly. “We’ll get them out. It’ll be okay. It has to be...”


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Dorian stared blankly into his bowl of cereal, his hands in his lap.

He hadn’t yet taken a single bite, too focused on the nausea that swirled in his stomach, and the tiredness behind his eyes – he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before. He suspected his brothers hadn’t gotten any, either, as it was the morning of the trial, and they were all too focused on the possibility that things would go wrong to get any rest.

“Not hungry?” Emile asked sympathetically, nudging Dorian with his elbow. He’d also barely touched his breakfast.

Dorian nodded, poking his bowl with his spoon.

“You should probably try to eat something, even if it’s just a small bite.” Emile continued, adjusting his tie. 

For a moment, the action looked so very...  _ Logan _ , so  _ Father _ , and Dorian flinched, almost letting out a pained nose. Dorian shook his head, staring at his hands in his lap. Emile gave him a concerned look, but said nothing else.

“Why the fuck do we have to dress like  _ this _ ?” Remy complained, pulling at his collar. 

Their clothes were heavy – stiff and unfamiliar – and much more formal than they would’ve liked. A lot of reporters would be waiting outside the courthouse, to take photos and videos of them, so they had to look their best, even while they felt their worst.  It had taken some debate, but their uncles had decided to let Remy keep his sunglasses, despite their informality, and they were currently propped up on his forehead.

“A _lot_ of people are gonna see us,” Thomas explained.

Remy groaned, pushing his mostly-full bowl away from him and leaning back in his chair.

“Of all the things I could be famous for, it just had to be  _ this _ .”

“What else would you be famous for, Rem?” Thomas joked. “The world record for  the highest daily caffeine intake? Most boys kissed before your 18 th birthday?”

Remy snorted, kicking Thomas under the table.

Brian gave them a reproachful look. “Behave,” He chided gently.

The moment he glanced away from the two chattering toddlers, Peter picked up a handful of dry cereal (which was, honestly, a very small amount, given his tiny baby hands), immediately throwing it at his sister. Missy responded by squawking, highly offended, and picking up her own plastic bowl, throwing it as far as she could, almost hitting Dorian on the shoulder.

Brian sighed. “Barely even talking, and you’re already fighting.”

He stood up, ruffling the little twins’ hair affectionately, before leaving to fetch the dustpan and brush.

This was when Hart entered the room, almost bumping right into his husband as he stepped through the doorway, laughing when he spotted the mess all over the floor. 

He pressed a kiss to Missy’s cheek, and then Peter’s forehead, before sitting at the table.

“You’re cheerful,” Remy commented, one eyebrow raised. “Thought you’d be more, I don’t know, anxious?”

“We’re all prepared; everything and everyone’s in place. Everything should go as planned – knock on wood.” Hart tapped the table with his knuckle, and all the teenagers repeated the action. Peter tilted his head, before slapping the table with his hand.

Missy giggled, doing it, too, and Hart couldn’t help but smile fondly at them.

Usually, the display of fatherly affection would make Dorian feel like bursting into tears, but, right now, he felt mostly just excited at the realisation that he’d get to see his dads again soon. Emile reached out and squeezed his brother’s hand under the table, giving him a small reassuring smile.

Brian came back with the dustpan and brush, and began sweeping up the cereal.

“This time tomorrow,” Thomas said. “We’ll be in Canada.”

Hart smiled. “We shall. You’ll love it there, and Aunt May and Auntie April will  _ adore  _ you four. Oh, they were so excited when they found out they’d finally be meeting to their grandkids. You’re all gonna get along great.”

“And we can  _ finally  _ get back to the ‘family business,’” Remy grinned, running his fingers through his hair. He then glanced at Thomas and Dorian. “Not that you two really stopped.”

Brian finished sweeping, returning to the table. “Yeah, and you’d better not do it again, we don’t need anything getting in the way of the plans today.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Thomas waved his hand. “We already learnt our lesson.”

“You’re real lucky that that turned out okay, misters,” Hart said, though he was smiling, reaching over and poking  Thomas’s shoulder. 

Dorian hummed quietly, feeling the nausea in his stomach calm a little. He finally reached out and picked up his spoon, scooping up a small amount of cereal and putting it in his mouth. It was soggy, but still sweet, and he swallowed it with little issue.

Emile gave him a reassuring smile, patting his arm and looking at him proudly.

Hart checked his watch. “Only a few hours to go,” He announced.

“Ugh, why’s it going so slowly, I just want it to be over with,” Remy groaned.

“Don’t we all?” Brian agreed.

A few minutes  passed, the conversation much livelier with anticipation than it had been for a while now. Hart seemed excited to tell his nephews – first cousins once removed, technically, but no one really thought about it like that – about Canada, and all the things they could do once they got there.

All of a sudden, a phone rang – Hart's work phone – and everyone went quiet.

He picked it up, his brow creased in slight confusion, before standing up.

“One moment,” He said, leaving the room.

After a moment, the conversation picked back up again, though it wasn’t quite as cheerful, partly because Brian’s expression was tinged with anxiety, and he kept glancing at the door, waiting for his husband to return.

It seemed that his worry wasn’t unfounded, as when Hart returned his expression was stony, cloudy, and every other word for undoubtably negative. He was shaking.

“What happened?” Thomas asked.

Hart cleared his throat, taking a moment to slip his phone back into his pocket.

“They- um...” His voice was thick. “The gang- the gang that we hired... they’ve...”

He trailed off.

“They what?” Brian prompted carefully, worried.

“They’ve been arrested.”


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

The car felt like a funeral scene. No one spoke – no one even dared to breathe for fear of shattering the heavy silence that hung off their shoulders like wet laundry off a line. The air in their lungs felt like molasses, thick and cloying. They walked like men condemned, which was ironic, considering what was probably going to happen to their Papa, and probably their other dads, too.

“We don’t know that yet,” Brian reminded them.

“As good as,” Remy sulked, his arms crossed. “With all the evidence piled against them there’s no way they’re coming out of this with a light sentence, especially not Papa.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re getting put in the electric chair,” Brian said. “If they get incarcerated then you could visit.”

“Not often. And we won’t be able to see Papa without raising suspicion,” Dorian glowered. “Our freedom is reliant on never seeing our Papa again and lying to make sure it happens.”

“Yes, but you won’t be in prison,” Hart said. “That’s the priority right now; that’s always the priority of the parents. Kids come first.”

“You  _ cannot  _ tell me you’re okay with this!” Remy snapped, snarling. “Dad is your  _ cousin! _ You’ve always said you’re as close as  _ brothers! _ How could you possibly be okay with this?’

“I’m not,” Hart said simply, almost cold, but mostly tired. “But I’ve been trained my whole life to prepare for any member of my family to be kidnapped, held for ransom, killed, or detained. I don’t have to be okay with it, I just have to make it through to the other side and deal with the situation then.”

“Sounds hard,” Emile muttered. 

Hart sighed. “It is, but not quite as hard as what you kids are about to go through. I know that you couldn’t possibly feel more horrible right now, but there’s going to be a lot of cameras out there and a lot of people with their eyes on you. They’ll be expecting you to be putting your abuser behind bars, so you’re going to have to pretend you are. You can’t be happy, but acting like you’re the ones on death row will look suspicious.” 

“So... nervous, but not too nervous, and we can be upset if Dad, Pop and Father get convicted, but happy when the verdict condemns Papa.” Thomas swallowed. “Great.”

“I’m sorry,” Hart said glumly. “I wish... well I wish a lot of things.” 

“Me too,” Remy groused. “Let’s just get this over with.”

****

Three hundred and eighty-five flashes of paparazzi cameras later and they were inside the courtroom. It was a severe looking room composed mostly of wood, with a strip of faded blue paint just out of reach of anyone who walked in, almost seeming like a metaphor for how justice felt so close, and yet so far. 

The judge looked as if the room had been personified: severe, faded, and disapproving. They stared down at Papa from their stand as if already judging him, filing his entire life away into neat little boxes to put on their scales. Remy instantly disliked them and everything they stood for. What even were truth and justice in this kind of scenario? They were nothing but secrets and lies and this judgy judge didn’t know the half of it and they never would. 

And don’t get him started on the jury: this miserable little collection of people who kept giving him and his brothers the most pitying looks. As if he’d been slapped across the face right in front of them. Their pity meant nothing. It was inactive and worthless, drafted up only to ease their own consciences. 

There was no doubt that at least half of them had already made up their minds. Remy shouldn’t blame them for that, really. After all, the only thing that made them different from the rest of the public was the fact that his Papa’s fate dangled in their hands.

“ Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?” 

“Sure. Fine, I swear, whatever.” 

Remy scowled and lifted his hands from the book. He hadn’t really been paying attention to what he’d sworn on, but it’s not like it mattered anyway. He was going to lie the whole time no matter what he was bound to, because if he didn’t his whole family would be cut into ribbons in court. Which made him no different from anyone else here, really.

The lawyers asked him a whole bunch of questions that he rattled off answers for. Uncle Brian had drilled them into his head, to the point where he could have recited them in his sleep. Granted, at the time Remy didn’t see the point, but now... Well now he didn’t have to think about his answers and could instead focus on pretending his pure, unadulterated hatred was directed at his Papa instead of the surrounding court. 

“One final question, Remy.” The lawyer in front of him said. 

_ Thank fuck. _ Remy thought. 

“How did you come to join Roman as the Knight?”

Remy blinked, a little startled. “It was, like four years ago, maybe? I  dunno the date. And I, um... I found him in the kitchen. He was... cleaning blood off something, I think. He- it was a weapon, a sword, a real one. He... when I caught him, he held it up. He pointed it at me. It  sort of... glinted, in the moonlight. I was just going for a glass of water but there was Papa, blood on his hands. There was part of a body... on the counter.” He paused for a moment. “It was... I don’t know. I was terrified,” He lied.

“And you became the Knight shortly after?”

Remy shrugged. “There wasn’t really much of a choice.”

The lawyer smirked and Remy realized all at once that he was talking to the prosecutor. He should’ve realized that before, and he felt his heart sink in his chest.

“No further questions, your Honor.” She said, waltzing back to her seat smugly.

When this was all over, Remy was going to reserve a special place in hell just for her.

****

“ Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but nodded. “I do.”

He knew this drill. Uncle Brian had made sure they  _ all  _ knew this drill. Just in case. Which, of course, “just in case” was now and now they had to plead their case. Which meant that Papa was play-acting at glowering at him the whole time which sucked and made Thomas want to crawl into a hole even though he knew it was fake.

At least he hoped it was fake. There was no way  word reached Papa that he’d been failing miserably at keeping their family together, right? That he and Remy were in a fight. That he’d made one choice that had almost cost them everything.

His throat was closing up as he stared at Roman, his vision starting to blur. As if he could, in fact, read Thomas’ mind, a glimmer of concern passed behind Roman’s eyes, almost unnoticeable. Just as the lawyer in between them cleared his throat. 

Thomas swallowed, blinking a few times to keep himself from crying. “Sorry. Um- can you repeat that?”

This was going to be hell.

****

“ Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?”

“I do.” 

He didn’t. Everyone who bore the Sanders name knew he didn’t. 

But what did that matter? It’s not as if a single person on this ugly hardwood floor was more honest than him. All humankind was nothing but a pile of lies that they spread until they became true. What made that juror better than him? After all, Dorian had seen him lying just outside this very room. Lying to a lady about whether or not her hair looked good. People lied all the time. In little ways and big ones. The only difference is that the big ones were harder to pull off.

And this was the biggest lie of them all.

“Mr. Sanders,” The lawyer said coldly. “Have you ever been afraid of your father?”

“Yes,” Dorian lied.

He lied over and over again until it was time to step off the witness stand without so much as another glance to the jury. Or at the Papa he was lying to condemn. 

****

“ Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?”

“I do.”

Emile kicked his legs, trying to maintain composure as the defendant and prosecutor asked him question after question. But not too much composure. He didn’t want to seem like too good an actor. He had to sell this performance by underselling it. Or something.

He had yet to look in Papa’s direction. He wasn’t entirely sure why but he knew it wasn’t part of his act. It helped sell it, for sure. But... 

He didn’t want to look at him. If he did, he might break down into tears. Apologize and throw all of them back to the drawing board. He can’t look at his Papa. Even though all he wanted to do was throw himself at him and curl back into his arms like he was seven again. 

But he couldn’t. And with the way things had been going it’s entirely possible he’d never be able to again. 

With that kind of thought in his head it wasn’t hard to fake tears as he recounted the made-up childhood in which he was forced to kill to protect himself. 

The tears weren’t fake, only the reasoning behind them.

He wanted his Papa...

****

“Does the jury have their decision?” The judge asked, voice as cold as ice.

A man in a pressed tie and too-tight khakis rose up, face grim. “We do. We find the defendant guilty. On all charges.”

“Then Roman Aldrich Sanders, I hereby sentence you to incarceration for life.”

***

“Guilty.”

“Patton Jedidiah Sanders, I hereby sentence you to incarceration for life.”

**

“Virgil Dante Sanders, I  hereby sentence you to incarceration for life.”

*

“Incarceration for life.”

And with the thud of a gavel, the last of their fathers was condemned to a life behind bars.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

If the ride to the trials had been a funeral, then the house after getting back was like a graveyard – cold and dead. They all shuffled around half-heartedly like disinterested zombies, not talking, often crying, and a few of them checking out of reality entirely in favor of taking a nap.

Hours had passed, and the brothers found themselves together in the living room, barely saying anything, and practically all out of tears.

“So, that’s it, then,” Remy said after some time. “They’re gone. Locked up forever... which means we’re stuck here for forever.”

“It could be worse,” Emile said softly, fiddling with his sleeve. “They could be- I mean, there’s the death penalty and... and yeah. It could be worse.”

Thomas sighed. “It could be worse, that doesn’t mean it’s not bad. But... but our uncles will get a bigger house, we’ll shift schools, we’ll... we’ll take care of each other. Just the way our dads would have wanted it.”

Remy snorted humorlessly. “Right. Take care of each other. Cause we’ve done  _ great  _ at that so far.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Thomas insisted, though his hopeless tone made it fall flat. “We’ll have to. As of right now... we’re all we’ve got.”

They fell silent. 

Remy leant backwards into the couch and stared up at the ceiling. In it, he could almost make out the faces of his smiling fathers, peering down at him through the blank white paint. Maybe he was just sleep deprived, but he couldn’t care less about that, right now. 

Gradually, he felt Emile, and then Dorian and then Thomas join him on the couch. As if magnetized, they unconsciously drew together, until they were all bundled together in the middle of the couch, both too squished and not close enough at the same time. 

“We’re all we’ve got,” Remy echoed. 

Emile wiped off his eyes carefully. “We... it’s not  gonna be perfect, but we’ll figure it out, right? How to take care of each other? The ins and outs. It can’t be that hard, right?”

“We can’t lose anyone else,” Dorian said quietly, the first time he’d spoken since the trials. “If we’re all we’ve got and we lose each other... we’ll have nothing. So we can’t lose anyone else. ...Please.”

Remy softened and tugged Dorian a little closer. “We won’t. There’s  gonna be a lot of bumps but... we won’t.”

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Thomas teased half-heartedly, trying to smile.

Remy shrugged. “We’ve literally got bigger fish to fry than me being mad at you,  Thomathy .”

Thomas snorted. 

“So, it’s agreed then?” Emile asked in a lighthearted, fragile voice. “Stick together?”

“Stick together,” The other three chorused. 

Nothing was going to tear them further apart...

***

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Hart said, distressed, pacing back and forth. “We- they weren’t supposed to get caught. No one was.”

“I know, pumpkin,” Brian said softly. “I know.”

“And now Patty’s  gonna be in jail the rest of his life! And we have to take care of his kids, and keep the family business under wraps and- an- and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Brian took his hand, using his other hand to rub his husband’s back. “Honey, you’re spiraling. Take some deep breaths. It’s all  gonna be okay.”

“Don’t say that!” Hart snapped. “How can you say that when... when...”

“Because I’ve got faith,” Brian said simply. “Faith that things are  gonna work out, even though things are getting pretty bleak... it’s going to be okay in the end. I promise you, darling.” 

Hart shuddered and collapsed into his husband. “...We aren’t ready for this. We can’t... we  _ just  _ stopped being teenagers ourselves, it feels like. We’re only just ready for toddlers. How are we supposed to raise three teenagers and a young adult?”

“Most of the raising part is already done,” Brian reminded him. “At this point all we can do is offer support. Unfailingly.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

Brian shrugs. “Then we keep trying. We’re never going to replace their dads, nor should we try to. But we can try our hardest to be the best uncles possible.”

Hart shuddered again. “...Okay. Okay, we’ll try.”

Brian hugged him close and started humming: a gentle lullaby that he only sings to his husband and kids, a lullaby transcribed right onto Hart’s heart. With every measure, Hart found himself relaxing just a little bit more, until he was practically in Brian’s lap, ear to his chest as he listened to the gentle melody.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too,” Brian promised. “And we’ll get through this. I promise.”

They stayed like that for some time, until the calm was suddenly broken by the loud ring of Brian’s work phone.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

The silence was painful.

It was cold and tense and only occasionally punctuated by shaky breaths and sniffles and every moment that passed was like another knife to Emile’s chest. His heart had already been ripped to shreds; he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. 

But it wouldn’t have felt right to fill the silence with something else, so they didn’t. They sat there, the silence weighing on their chests like an aging Saint Bernard. 

The four brothers were curled up together on the couch – Dorian tucked under Thomas’s arm, his shoulder pressed against Remy’s, and Emile on Thomas’s other side. They didn’t know how long they’d been like this; the ticking clock having faded into the background. White noise. Like the inside of his head. None of them felt the need to check.

None of them moved, none of them talked. Their thoughts were eating them alive, but there were no more tears left to cry. Exhaustion weighed on them all like a million heavy blankets, but the thought of sleeping left a bad taste in Emile’s mouth. Not now, not until he had to.

They were all so distracted by their thoughts – the cold, the  _ pain –  _ that when Brian burst into the room, they all jumped like they’d been shocked by electricity.

He was pale and wide-eyed, and Emile didn’t have the chance to ask him what was wrong before he started mumbling to himself, looking around frantically.

“The remote, the remote,” He muttered. “Where’s the remote?”

It was on the other sofa, stuffed between cushions, and he saw it within moments, grabbing it and spinning around, barely acknowledging the four brothers. He then switched the TV on, flicking through the various channels until he landed on the right one.

“-are now on the run. The police have assured us that they won’t stop searching until the criminals are back behind bars.”

Emile leaned forward, feeling his brothers all jolt beside him, and grabbed Thomas’s arm, squeezing it just a bit too hard, but the older brother was too focused on the television to notice. They all were.

“The four prisoners were in the process of being transferred when the vehicles were attacked. The armed guards were all slaughtered, and the four dangerous men are now out. Police are evacuating the area...”

The news anchor’s even voice faded into the background as Remy jumped up.

“They’re out, oh my  _ god _ . They’re out!” He exclaimed, looking around at his brothers and uncle, his eyes wide. “We- we have to pack our things; we have to follow them!”

“No.”

Brian’s voice was barely above a whisper, but they all heard him. His eyes never left the TV screen, his knuckles white as he tightly clutched the remote.

Remy froze for a moment – they all did – before spinning around.

“Excuse me?” He said, shoulders tense.

There was a beat.

“No,” Brian repeated quietly. “You’re- we’re not following them.”

Silence.

The air was so thick and heavy it was practically uncuttable, not even by the razor-sharp blades that impaled Emile’s heart. It choked  him; he couldn’t even speak.

_ “What?” _ Remy hissed, stomping over to Brian and yanking at his sleeve. Their uncle barely even reacted. “What the  _ fuck _ ? What the hell do you mean, ‘we’re not following them?’” He shook Brian’s arm. “They’re  _ out _ , they’re finally fucking out. Of course, we’re following them!”

Brian wouldn’t meet his gaze, no matter how long Remy glared at him.

Eventually, he dropped Brian’s sleeve, practically growling as he did so, aggressively brushing invisible dirt from his shirt, and turning to face his brothers.

“Come on, let’s get our shit. We’re going.”

His brothers didn’t move. 

Emile’s eyes remained on Brian, watching as their uncle took a deep breath, closing his eyes from a moment as he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You don’t know the address,” He said quietly – not quite harsh, but only just.

Remy spun back around. “Then  _ tell  _ us.”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

Brian stood up  suddenly. “Because they don’t want me to!”

Everyone, even Remy, froze. 

Then Remy snarled, his hands in fists, looking moments away from attacking their uncle. Emile wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop him in time if he tried. 

“You’re lying, you’re fucking  _ lying _ ,” Remy snapped. “They’re our dads, of  _ course,  _ they want us to follow.”

“They changed their minds,” Brian said, barely keeping his voice level. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. “The risk of them being caught again is too high, they want to keep you out of this. They want to keep you  _ safe _ . Even if that means-”

“We’ll be safer with them!”

Brian sighed. “Remy, you know that’s not true.”

“Fuck you,” Remy spat- almost literally. “You don’t know what’s best for us. You aren’t our dad. You can’t keep us from following them.”

Their uncle didn’t say anything.

“Where are they?” Remy demanded, stepping forward and grabbing the front of Brian’s shirt.

“No.”

Emile stepped forward, putting his hand on his twin's arm. “Remy,” He said softly- pained.

He heard Dorian break down behind them, and Thomas’s attempts at comforting him. Emile knew that if he turned around and saw them, he’d start crying, too. He couldn’t do that. He had to stay strong. For Remy.

Remy ignored him.

“Where are they?!” He demanded again, louder, moving closer and shaking Brian aggressively.

“I can’t tell you that.”

Remy shoved him, and their uncle landed on the couch. “Where are they!?” He screamed, ignoring how his sunglasses tumbled to the ground from the force of it, and how Emile tried weakly to pull him back.

All at once he collapsed to the ground with a sob, and Emile immediately fell to his knees beside him, wrapping his arms around his brother, holding him as he broke down.

Emile couldn’t cry, he  _ couldn’t _ , because if he started crying, too, then who would hold and take care of Remy? So, he ignored the fact that his heart had shattered in his chest (it was already broken, but now that he knew that their parents didn’t want them to follow, it had shattered like a mirror. Seven years of bad luck- maybe more), and there was no one left to pick up the pieces, because he was busy picking up Remy’s.

Their dads got out. But they were gone. 

...

What were they going to do now?


	28. Epilogue

Our dearest sons,

You have every right to tear these letters in two. To rip them apart and to burn the shreds and dump the ashes into the waves so our words are swept far, far away from the world you now must navigate. But before you do please know this: we are not leaving you because we want to. 

We argued for hours after the escape. Debating hotly and fighting more than we ever had before. But the conclusion we came to  was final. You four do not deserve a life on the run. There’s nothing for you in Canada, in hiding. As much as it may pain us, we must separate ourselves from you in order to give you a future. If we took you with  us you wouldn’t have a future. You’d be stuck, entrenched in blood and given new names, your very identities needing to be rewritten as you sink deeper and deeper into a hole you can’t climb out of. We don’t want that for you. We’re your fathers and as much as it pains us, we need to do what’s best for you. And what’s best for you now is having hope of a life without further bloodshed. You deserve better than the life we’re heading to. We don’t have a choice in going to it, but we have a choice about  whether we drag you into it too. 

We are not saying we don’t love you. This hurts more than you could possibly understand... Though you probably do, now that we’re leaving. We don’t want to tear the family apart any more than it has been but it’s an unfortunate necessity. So, we’re asking- no-  _ begging  _ that the four of you stick together. Don’t cause each other any further strife. This split is horrible, and we hate that we  have to do it. So please, please don’t cause another one. 

Enclosed in the second envelope are letters from each one of us. Last pieces of fatherly advice and parental love. If there had been time, each of us would have written four, individualized them more. But as it stands there was barely time to write the five of these. We know it’s not enough. We know nothing will be. But it’s all we can do for you now. And we’re sorry.

We are so very sorry. To leave you. To have involved your innocent souls in this in the first place. To have failed you as parents. To fail again and leave now, when you are most in need of our help. We’re sorry. So, so sorry.

As we said before, you have every right not to read these letters. But we hope that you will. If nothing else, please know that we love you more than life itself. More than the world itself is capable of holding. And it is only because of that love that we are leaving you. 

Leaving you is like ripping out our own hearts in four pieces, and we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t feel like it was giving you boys your best chance. Just know that no matter what happens, and no matter how you feel about us, we will never, ever stop loving you. 

Love, and forever your Papa, Father, Dad and Pops - Forever your dads,

Roman, Logan, Patton, and Virgil Sanders

****

My dear sons,

It pains me that this letter has become necessary, as you have no doubt been assured of. I’m aware that I am not the father you turn to for flowery words of comfort or for declarations of everlasting love. I will leave that to your other fathers. Instead, I will make my advice practical and to the point. Since you can no longer turn to me for advice on practical matters, I will put it here. As well as penning a final apology. 

I want the four of you to know that I only ever had your best interests at heart. Every action I have taken in this ordeal has been to protect you and to keep your hands as clean as possible. Witness protection is a far better fate than prison or the life in hiding that awaits your fathers and myself. I know I have difficulty expressing my emotions. Now I wish I had taken each given opportunity to tell you that you were loved. Are loved. I am not a man of flowery words but being your father was one of the greatest joys in my life, and it will continue to be so even if I never lay eyes on you again. Being a parent is continuous, unending and unwavering. I am never going to stop being your Father, regardless of the distance between us. Perhaps that is illogical of me, but I could no sooner stop caring for you than I could move the moon from its orbit. I hope one day you  are able to forgive me for all I’ve done. 

You have no doubt noticed my extra pages by now. They describe, in step by step, simple instructions, how to do things that I had always hoped to help you through. I am not the father to turn to for emotional problems or crushes, but I had hoped that one day I could help you with taxes, home ownership, mortgages and the like. So, I have outlined them for you in those pages. It isn’t everything and it doesn’t make up for not being there. However, I hope that they aid you should you have difficulty with one of the tasks they detail. 

Keep a level head, no matter the circumstances. There is nothing that cannot become clearer with the application of simple logic. Never forget that love has a power onto itself and that coldness or becoming clinical only results in the misery of yourself and those around you. Make room for love and laughter always, but do not forget to think through the choices you make. There is a practical answer to every problem, you need only look for it. Not all the messages in classic literature aged well but there is something to learn in all of them, even if the lesson is not to read it again. Education has a value, but you should not measure your worth by it. Even so, never stop informing yourself of the world around you, as those who don’t will be led into following anyone even to their doom. The world around us has a beauty so wonderful and immense that we have yet to know and explore all of it, never forget the value nature holds. Never forget the value that you, yourself hold as part of nature. Drink water, sleep regularly, only use your bed for sleeping and for copulation, brush your teeth, exercise regularly, hold tight to each other, but do not forget to socialize with others.

First and foremost: Never forget that I love you. Even through the distance, I love you. 

Love,

Your Father, Logan Elijah Sanders.

***

Dear Kiddos,

I’m so so so so sorry and I love you so much and I totally get it if you hate me- hate _us_ now cause that’s a totally valid feeling and I can’t say that I blame you for it. I’d hate me too. 

I don’t want to leave  you. But it’s true. You kids deserve your best chance. And unfortunately, that’s not with us. I don’t want my whole letter to be full of  apologies, but you deserve to know how sorry I am for this whole mess. 

We’re supposed to be filling these letters with advice but all I can think of is how much I miss you,  ha-ha . Isn’t that pitiful? That all I can think of is the what ifs? I guess if I have any advice it’s not to linger on what ifs. You can’t do anything to make them reality. All they do is take the knife in and out of the same wound, stabbing you again and again and not stopping any of the flow or pain...

Don’t linger on what ifs. Linger on the happy things! No matter how few or many of them there are, they’re worth keeping close to your heart. Happiness is worth the pursuit, but it can’t be bought. Stability can, and comfort can, but happiness that you pay for is always fleeting. It’s the people around us that create lasting happiness. They can create  misery too, of course, but if you find the right  people, they’ll stick by you. 

Stick by each other, for that matter. Family is the best way to keep out the cold, and it’s not determined by blood or by signed papers. It’s forged, created in the people you are close to and those who are close to you. I don’t want you to only have each other forever, but I don’t want you to ever lose each other either. Never forget the wonderful memories you’ve made together and what family means. Why it’s important.

The good cookies are hidden in a tin in the cupboard above the stove. I know I shouldn’t’ve  hid them but in a family of eight they were always gone too quick. The family recipes are in the cupboard next to it. It’s your job to keep passing them on, but don’t give up if they don’t come out perfect the first time. Giving up won’t help you make anything better, and that goes for baking  _ and _ life. Giving up creates stagnation, not improvement. 

I love you all so much. And I am so sorry. Just please know that I love you no matter what, okay? I love you- I have from the moment I saw you and long after I signed the adoption papers and I’ll keep loving you even after I’m in the grave myself. My love isn’t going to ever stop. I only hope that I’ve been good enough to show you that. 

Eternal love,

You’re Dad:  Patton  Jedidiah Sanders 

**

Dear kids,

Everyone else has probably apologized a million times already and... I can’t say that I don’t want to apologize a million times more. But if you get five letters full of apologies, you’ll get sick of  them, so I’ll get right to the point.

Look both ways before crossing the street. Eat three meals a day. Drink water. Don’t take pills with alcohol or coffee. If you have anxiety caffeine is only going to make it worse. Your brain is most likely lying to you so when in doubt run through what the best-case scenario is, what the worst-case scenario is, and what the most likely scenario is. During panic attacks the best thing to do is ground yourself so two methods to do that are to inhale for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, and exhale it for eight seconds and to repeat that until calm. Or to name five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. There’s more but that’s the two I use. 

Remember that you can’t see everything everyone is going through. There’s always something going on in someone's’ head. But on the flip side, that does not give them a free pass to hurt you. Give them the benefit of the doubt but never fail to put yourself first. You are the most important person in your life. Take care of that person.

Whatever you’re feeling, for however long is perfectly valid. Not weird, not strange, and not stupid. Let yourself feel them. But don’t live in them so long that you forget how to feel anything else. Let it move through you the way Zuko lets lightening flow through him in that one episode of Avatar. Feelings are explanations for actions, not excuses. As are mental illnesses or disabilities. There’s no good reason to be a jerk so don’t be one. You’re better than that. 

I wish I could say all this in person, over time, not jam as much as I can into a letter. I wish I could have you guys call me whenever you need to and be able to tell you whatever you need to hear. I wish I could keep raising you. And I’m sorry that I can’t. I’m never  gonna stop loving you guys, no matter what happens. None of us are. I hope that someday we’ll be able to be a family again but until then, just... take care of yourselves. And each other. I hope that you all get the most out of your lives. That you succeed at  every single thing you put your minds to. I know that you can do it. No matter what it is. You may run into limitations, but they do not define you. You are defined by what you create, what you do, the actions you take, and the people you love and help. Do not define yourself by what you cannot do or by what your brain thinks is the truth. Define yourself by the light you put into the world and the influence you have on it. 

...I wish I could wrap you four up in a blanket and protect you from the world. I always have. And I know that leaving you alone now is basically the antithesis of that.  So I hope you grow- I hope you  _ thrive. _ As much as any four people on this earth can. And I hope you know I’ll be missing you. Every day. 

I love you. 

Your Pops, Virgil Dante Sanders

*

My dearest darlingest children,

Are apologies enough? Is a simple “I’m sorry” going to make up for the pain I have put you through? For the trial, the blood, the leaving? No  amount of apologies is going to erase a single thing that I have done to you both recently and reaching as far back as the night Remy found me covered in blood. There are not enough apologies to make up for this, which only adds another of them to the  never-ending list. 

No amount of love or advice will ease it either. I know that. Despite all evidence to the contrary, your Papa is not a fool. I can’t say what I would have done differently, if given a second chance. I can’t say if I would have. All I know for certain is that if I had seen any of this coming, I would have made certain to tell you without fail that I love you. Every given day. I would have said it so frequently, so often, that you could never be in doubt of it. 

You know I’m a man of many words. I never say one word where five will do. That’s why it's likely surprising to see how short my letter is. Perhaps... Perhaps it is because I am disillusioned. I hold no hope of being forgiven for this. And I don’t want you to forgive me now out of pity because whatever you are feeling about me- or your other fathers, for that matter- is perfectly understandable. I do not blame you for your ire. I am resigned to it. I will not pretend I don’t deserve it. 

And your anger will not stop me from loving you, for that is unending. Eternal. I have loved the four of you since the moment I laid eyes on you and I will never stop loving you. I only wish that were enough to erase my misdeeds. 

May we meet again someday. And may the stars always smile on you with favor. May your every dream be fulfilled, my children. And may you one day grow to forgive me. 

Farewell with love,

Your Papa, Roman Aldrich Sanders.


End file.
